


Who Will Breathe the Earth We Lost?

by kyojinouji



Series: The Earth We Lost [1]
Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band), ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Aos Si! Yeosang, Asrai! Wooyoung, Banshee! Jongho, Bastard Dynamics, Betrayal, Bonding, Cat Sith! Mingi, Cu Sith! Yunho, Elf! Jun, Elven King! Hongjoong, Eventual Smut, Fae & Fairies, Hongjoong is incredibly shy, Human Changeling! Chan, I don't know how ruling a kingdom works, Kingdom Dynamics, M/M, Marriage Competition, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Past Rape Mention, Possibly will add more tags later, Power of Friendship, Puca! Seonghwa, Seelie, Selkie! Donghun, Slow Burn, This is slow burn so you have to wait, Trickster! San, Unseelie, Will O' Wisp! Sehyoon, all the fae are mostly humanoid!, and also everyone is hot so like I understand where he's coming from, it's a lot of Fae myth, they just have extra little features like wings and tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyojinouji/pseuds/kyojinouji
Summary: "You will make a wonderful king."After the disappearance of the King of Avalon, Hongjoong is forced to ascend to the throne. Stalling coronation for two years does not make for a good social profile. The biggest issue comes in the form of the crown, however, as Hongjoong is not the rightful heir. He is a bastard with a tail. Desperate to save his kingdom, the prince must overcome his inner demons and select a royal partner to rule alongside him for the crown itself to recognize him. Thus, a competition is born.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Byeongkwan/Kim Sehyoon | Wow, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: The Earth We Lost [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750036
Comments: 35
Kudos: 167





	1. Tired

> [ _ “I don't know what to do with these feelings. _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ Staying strong, all I do is pretending 'cause  I feel so helpless. _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ I'm losing my senses;  _ _ Smiling face wearing off, I'm so sorry. _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ But I tried, yeah, I tried, oh I've had enough.  _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ Something inside me i _ _ s killing me slowly. _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ Who am I now?"  _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> [ _ \- ' **Tired' by NIve** _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=ABzLc814QcGmz9n26Fh3-w)
> 
> * * *

“You do not believe that he might still return, do you?” 

The advisor’s hand had been wrapped tightly around his glowing staff. The silver bells tied tightly to its branches tinkling like shells as he waved it around ambiguously. Its buds beginning to flower, Hongjoong knew spring was approaching stealthily; daring to pull them from winter’s iron grip. He longed for the golden rays of sunlight to filter through the kingdom once more. For the apple trees to begin to blossom and cast their delicate perfume through the stone hallways.

“You believe he will not?” 

His voice was tender; showing the wounds the advisors had begged him to cover. He could see the way the council frowned as he spoke his name. The way quills were left to rest in their ink for a dozen breaths. He could hear the silence in the deafening pauses. Nothing, however, could draw him away from the memory of his brother.

The advisor did not respond. Instead, he chose to rest a single palm against the man’s pale cheek before turning on his heel. Even as he retreated towards the common room, he knew the unspoken response. It was the same that every member of the royal committee had repeated soullessly.

“You will make a wonderful king.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Outside smells of blood and petrichor. The rain having finally faded, and the silence settling over the castle again, it has become hard to ignore the tension within the walls. It is unknown how many fell just beyond the stone barricades. Or how many still linger, waiting, for someone else to step foot into the misty air. The war had been a quiet one this time. Hongjoong did not even have time to leave the castle walls before the flag of surrender had begun to wave. That did not mean the outside was safe, however, as dissenters easily could hide just out of sight. As the book in his grasp settled back onto the wooden surface of his father’s writing desk, he carefully pulled the drawer closest to him open. Inside sat a dry quill, pot of golden ink, and a letter that had long since needed to be sent. The parchment curled at the edges, brown from age and use, but the words written upon its smooth face had not changed from when Hongjoong wrote them the night prior.

“To whom it may concern–

On behalf of those within the borders of Avalon, I hope this letter finds you in good health. Attached is a detailed account of the last day in which our respected King Maddox was seen, beginning with the twilight of the thirteen night of Apple Bloom. It is with a heavy heart that I inform the public of the events that transpired that fateful day. It is under the assumption, after two years of calculated searching, that he will not be returning to his rightful place upon Avalon’s throne. As this is the first occurence of this nature since the untimely passing of our father, King Irelis, the responsibility falls upon the crown prince to search for a loyal partner to ascend to the throne. However, as to be expected, my reclusive nature has put quite a dampen on my social interactions between myself and the heirs of other kingdoms. It is through this letter that I have elected to hold a revel of open arms in two months time. During such, I will seek a rightful companion to rule alongside myself and unite two kingdoms for the prosperous future of our realm. 

Though, what would be a marriage without a little challenge? Those who are of interest may be elated to know this revel can be a competition. The first portion of the revel will be a feast. Those who pique my curiosity will be brought to play a game of wit alongside each other. And finally, those lucky enough to exceed my expectations will be invited to my private chambers. This final round, however, is the one that matters most. One might interpret it as a test of courage. Despite the negative losses that my kingdom has experienced in rapid succession, I hope that a night of food and drink will spur on brilliant, eternal alliances. 

– _Kim Hongjoong_

_ Crown Prince and Future King of Avalon” _

The gold ink finally finds its way onto the parchment in the form of his royal signature.  _ There’s no going back now.  _ Pressing a palm to his temple, he stares at the swirling pot of golden ink. Distantly, the memory of a clear globe with glitter settling to its base filters into his mind. 

_ “It’s a snowglobe, Joongie.” His mother held the small object tenderly, her eyes sparkled like its contents. “One of the changelings brought it back after his mission. Isn’t it brilliant, my love?” She shook the globe again, shifting the liquid until it was difficult to see the small pixie sitting inside of it. Humans thought the winged beings to be precious, beautiful creatures. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to bat them away the moment they reached out to pull his hair. The red strands lingering in their fingers made his stomach roll with anger and offense. Without a member of his family by his side, they treated him like a sitting duck.  _

_ “Does it bring snow?” His voice, so small, was full of genuine wonder. He loved snow. The chilly flakes made him buzz with excitement the moment they brushed his skin. His mother laughed as she tucked a stray tendril of wild hair behind his ear.  _

_ “If you believe it does, then it must.” _

Hongjoong shivers involuntarily. Winter gnawed at their window sills, demanding to be let within the castle walls, and only now the spring rains have begun to return to them. He did not wish to be acknowledged by the snow ever again. He hated it. With winter came loss; of crops, people, and dreams. Nothing about the season enthralled him, especially not those born of it like the Unseelie. 

Standing from the desk, he pushes his way through the door of his chamber and out into the castle corridors. Two guards were stationed in front of the wooden barricade, just far enough to give him personal space, but close enough to break into the room if things began to sound awry. Hongjoong nods in their direction, trying to school his face into a positive expression, but failing miserably. The brunette, Junhee, bows deeply before moving in Hongjoong’s direction. 

The elf is taller than Hongjoong by about two inches. It is not enough to make him feel tiny, but the difference is noticeable. What he lacks in height, however, he makes up in presence by pulling his shoulders back slightly and raising his head. Jun motions to the other guard, a Selkie named Donghun, and the other Fae makes his way to them as well. 

“You both look well.” Hongjoong holds the letter tightly against his chest. Part of him wishes nothing more than to rip it up before the guards. “Might I ask a favor?” 

Jun laughs quietly, brown hair falling into his eyes, and shakes his head. His voice is smooth like lavender honey as he says, “Might I remind you once more, sire, that you are allowed to ask for as many favors as you would like.” Hongjoong cannot help but frown at the statement. While it is not incorrect, the assertion always manages to sting. 

“Junhee, do not laugh at me,” He pouts, tightening his grip on the letter. “We grew up together. You know, as well as I do, that it’s hard to treat you differently. Not to mention, you are all quite a bit older than me.” 

“By a mere few years. It may matter to humans, but that logic is lost on us.” Donghun’s chuckle next to the two of them brings the royal back to his mission. The letter, once again reminding him of iron cuffs, burns its weight into his mind. Holding out the envelope, he grimaces slightly. 

“Could you ask Chan to create copies of this? Enough for every major kingdom to receive one.” Jun stares at the letter for a few breaths before taking it from Hongjoong’s grasp. Blue-grey eyes meet his own, searching for a deeper meaning, until Donghun breaks the silence with a light cough. “And by every major kingdom, I do mean both Seelie and Unseelie.” A gentle gasp fills the corridor; its echoes tracing Hongjoong’s thoughts.

“You don’t mean-”

Hongjoong does not truly mean to cut off the guard’s question. His voice comes out like liquid flames, scalding his throat as he speaks. “I do,” He pauses, gauging the dual reactions before him. “There is going to be a wedding within the coming months. And unfortunately, it is mine.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Two months later, the kingdom is alight with joy. It should please Hongjoong, however, as he strolls through the blossoming orchards of Avalon even the promise of sweet fruit does not lift his spirits. Beside him stands the Hyter sprite, Byeongkwan, as they discuss the upcoming revel. Byeongkwan’s wings are tucked neatly against his shoulder blades. The sky blue of his feathers vibrant as the roses blooming in the castle window boxes. After a few moments, he notices the way Hongjoong’s eyes squint against the sunlight. Now that they have reached the middle of spring, Hongjoong regrets ever sending out the letters. He has not slept well in the two months since he ordered Chan to disperse them nor has his mind stopped running through the list of RSVPs from dozens of kingdoms. 

Without saying anything, Byeongkwan spreads his wings far above them; effectively blocking out the harsh sunlight. Before Hongjoong can ask him why, the other man gives him a wide grin. The two continue their way down the path before finally reaching their destination. A large tree at the center of the clearing bears only golden fruit. Its leaves are a deep, rich green. At its base, rest two large gravestones of marble and tenderly robed in vines of ivy. Byeongkwan, knowing the distance that Hongjoong would prefer for privacy, kneels 40 paces from Hongjoong, who settles directly in front of the two stones. 

“Hello, Mother. Father. I would have been here earlier, but you know how Maddox is-” He stops for a second, considering his next words. What good would it do to unload on his deceased parents about their son? After telling the public the truth about Maddox, everything seemed to go down hill. Even when it came down to things that could be easily fixed if Hongjoong would just go through with his coronation instead of arranging his marriage, it felt as though the world was out to suffocate him. 

“Lately, it has been difficult just to take time for myself. I keep trying to pick up where Maddox left off, but it gets overwhelming quite quickly.” Hongjoong sighs; his fingers finding their way deep into the grass. “There will be a wedding soon. My wedding. I guess you might already know that, though, if you truly can see us. You probably know everything before I’ve even had the chance to tell you about it.”

He pulls a blade of grass from the earth, twisting it until it splinters into a dozen little strands, before finishing his train of thought. “Thank you. Both for watching over me this far and also preparing me while you were still around. Maddox tried his best, but wherever he went...whatever happened to him...kind of threw a wrench in everything, huh?” Hongjoong pushes off from the ground. Brushing off his embroidered slacks, he goes to turn away from the graves before casting a final glance in their direction. Dainty white flowers dance gently in the spring breeze around them, matching the light stones of the marble. “It’s nothing I cannot handle with time. And it is for the merriment of our kingdom.”

_ That does not mean I will enjoy it.  _

He motions to Byeongkwan; letting him know that he has said what he needed. Opening his piercing hazel eyes, the older man rises. The two turn on their heels and travel back through the apple orchard. The silence between them mimics a hand around Hongjoong’s throat. Coughing slightly, he tries to arouse small talk from the sprite. 

“So, I assume things with Sehyoon are going well?” The other freezes, his feet falling to an immediate stop on the pathway, and he gapes at Hongjoong’s cat-like grin. Byeongkwan’s face, while hidden behind one gloved hand, reddens quickly. Hongjoong pushes on; determined to get some kind of gossip from the day’s excursion. Anything to take his mind off of his parents’ graves. “From what Junhee has been telling me, the two of you are almost inseparable.”

“Sire, I do not know what Jun has told you, but I can promise that Sehyoon and I are operating entirely on a business relationship.” 

Hongjoong cannot help himself from rolling his eyes. While he did not expect the sprite to out-right tell him about his love life, he expected some form of sympathy. One that was filled with all of the juicy details of a possible budding romance between two of his five favorite guards. They were childhood friends after all. 

“You don’t have to dance around the topic, Kwan. Office romances are allowed in this kingdom.” He accompanies the statement with a wink. “Lord knows that you are getting more action than I ever have.” The older guffaws at Hongjoong’s playful jest. He gently cuffs the royal on the back of the head before scurrying in front of him by a dozen paces. 

“I would tell you if there was anything going on. Right now, however, it’s a boring story.” 

“A boring story is still as story.” Hongjoong murmurs, dragging his boots for dramatic effect. Byeongkwan laughs as they approach the Eternity Bridge, pushing aside a freshly bloomed limb of wisteria. Hongjoong cannot help but wonder what it would be like to have a relationship like that of the guards. No fear of taking a throne and disappointing the kingdom with one misspoken phrase or just to be able to trust each other wholeheartedly since birth and work together for a common cause. He is, of course, their friend. Sometimes, however, they remind him of his rank; refusing the casual air the group used to have with each other.

From the bridge, they can easily see down into the main cityscape of the kingdom. Brilliant brickwork works itself into pathways forming a large set of cicada wings. Their gossamer shine, an ethereal spell cast by one of the Ancients, mimics that of a changing ocean tide. At twilight, the wings appear to flutter gently. 

At the direct center of the city is the large fountain carved from amethyst and citrine. At night, the water reflects the iridescent tones of the stones around it. Right now, Fae buzz around the fountain like dozens of worker bees. Many carry tables, chairs, and decorations. Hongjoong watches with a sense of pride, knowing the excitement of his citizens, but fearing for the night’s events. It will be the first official revel since his brother’s disappearance. He can only shake his head as the two continue across the Eternity Bridge and travel back to the castle. As they approach the main gate, he feels his heart rate begin to stutter. Byeongkwan, sensing something amiss, turns to face him.

“Do you want me to take you directly to your room?” Hongjoong can only nod, a palm pressed gently to his own chest, as he tries to calm the panic rising within. “Hold on then.” He does as he is told. Byeongkwan scoops the royal into his arms and extends his wings before pushing off of the group. No matter how many times the Hyter sprite has done something similar for him, he will never grow accustomed to the sound of his wings during take off. The ear-splitting push of air always sends a terrified chill down Hongjoong’s spine. 

“I’ll drop you off on the balcony.” Byeongkwan says against his ear. Hongjoong nods in agreement. He does not trust his voice to be loud enough to cut past the sound of airflow around them. He barely has time to process their landing before the balcony door of his room flies open. Junhee stands with his arms tightly crossed against his chest. The elf looks irritated, but not furious. 

“Where have you two been?” The voice comes from behind Jun. The only human member of the guards, Chan, stalks up to them. His head cocks slightly as he takes in Hongjoong’s ruffled appearance. The other members of the guard lean against the doorframe of Hongjoong’s room. The human runs a hand through his hair, pouting, and towers over Hongjoong. Despite his normally generous temper, Chan’s height gives him an intimidation factor that the royal could not comprehend. 

“Visiting the late king and queen.” Byeongkwan speaks for him. Chan sighs in response and takes a few steps back from Hongjoong’s small frame. “He said that he told you?” It comes out as a question and the royal cannot help but slink further away from his friends. Faeries cannot lie. So, maybe he fibbed a little.

“He most certainly did not.” Sehyoon speaks this time. The Will O’ Wisp glares at the crown prince as he rolls his eyes dramatically. “Your highness,” the phrase comes out bitter. “Do you understand how dangerous it is to keep things like this from us?” He clips the ending that Hongjoong knows would accompany soon after, “ _ Especially today.” _

“It was long overdue.” He finally speaks, throwing himself into his desk chair. “I deserve to get out of the castle sometimes.” 

“You told me you had permission!” Byeongkwan rubs the bridge of his nose. “I asked you if you had informed anyone else in the guard and you distinctly told me Chan knew.”

“Yes, he knows that I like to visit my parents. Also, that I have received his permission to leave in the past.” Hongjoong’s cheshire grin cannot be hidden behind his hand for long. He is going to be king. Why should one need permission to travel through their own kingdom?

Byeongkwan, obviously fed up by the betrayal, stomps into the corridor. Sehyoon, aware that the other three can handle themselves against the royal, blinks out of room in a pop of blue flame. Hongjoong is left with the setup of a bad joke. A human, an elf, and a Selkie walk into a crown prince’s bedroom…

“Sire, the other kingdoms will be converging soon. You absolutely cannot risk your safety by wandering around in public without at least three of us.” Junhee stares at him in disappointment. It only makes Hongjoong feel slightly bad. “In other news, the first kingdom of the Seelie court has arrived.”

The news is almost alarming. Hongjoong, feeling his heart rate speed up once again after having finally settled down, pushes a palm to his temple. Maybe he could fake a headache and get out of the opening ceremony. The thought passes quickly, however, as the memory of his parents graves surfaces in his mind’s eye. Donghun, who had been otherwise silent throughout Hongjoong’s berrading, moves from his position on the wall. He approaches the crown prince with his hand outstretched until it lands on his head. 

“We’re here to protect you, so don’t think we aren’t screening for beauties.” He grins before spinning on his heel to travel back into the corridor. Donghun’s easy-going personality always had a habit of reminding Hongjoong of Maddox. Chan shakes his head slightly. 

“That was what we came here to tell you in the first place. You know, until we found our ruler missing for the second time in two years.” The words scald Hongjoong slightly, but Chan does not give them time to settle. “You should prepare to greet them. From what I understand, it is the royal family of Trellis. It would be a shame to meet the royal family of Bylea while you’re covered in grass stains.” He and Jun turn to leave, before Jun throws a glance back over his shoulder. 

“If you were not so painfully heterosexual, Sehyoon might suspect Byeongkwan of infidelity.” Jun laughs as Hongjoong guffaws at his suggestion.  _ Heterosexual _ ?  _ Infidelity _ ? He thought his guards knew better than anyone else how false those statements were. He does not have time to rebuff Jun as the older man disappears from his view. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The royal family of Bylea, Hongjoong learns quickly, is of Aos Si descent. What the crown prince did not expect, however, is that the family itself would not be appearing before him. Rather, a single member bows before him. The Fae’s blonde hair falls gently into his eyes as he rises from his position. When Hongjoong meets his gaze, the elf immediately notices the oceanic blue of his irises. A color so unfiltered he finds it almost too celestial to have been given a form. The Bylean prince tilts his head slightly, casting his hair away from his cheek, and revealing a pink mark beneath his left eye. 

“Thank you for inviting Bylea to attend this revel, Prince Hongjoong.” His voice is so much deeper than Hongjoong was expecting. The shock does not last for long as Hongjoong holds out a hand. The other clasps on, shaking it slightly, before tucking it back into one of the long, flowing sleeves of his tunic. The silken material shakes slightly; revealing its density in miniscule crystal embroidery and casting small rainbows around the throne room. Avalon’s future king stares in wonder. The Bylean continues, unfettered by the other royal’s obvious enthusiasm.

“I am Yeosang of the Kang family.” His blue eyes do not meet Hongjoong’s again. “I must apologize for the absence of my parents, as well as, younger sister. Unfortunately, she fell quite ill prior to travelling and they thought it better to remain with her.” He pauses before locking gazes again with Hongjoong. “I hope that it is not a disappointment for me to attend in her stead.” 

“Not at all, Prince Yeosang. It is an honor to have someone of your beauty here.” Hongjoong holds out a palm, silently requesting the other’s hand, and kisses the back of it when he complies. “Call me selfish, but I was growing afraid that only young women would appear.” It is then that Hongjoong casts a pointed look in the direction of his guards. He immediately sees Donghun and Chan slap at Junhee’s shoulder, whispering something about a bet, while Sehyoon and Byeongkwan stare on giggling into their sleeves. 

Yeosang laughs gently, bowing once more, before his personal entourage comes forward. Hongjoong acknowledges them with a gentle nod, turning his attention back to their prince, as he holds out an arm for the other to hold as they walk. “Shall we? I believe a quick tour is needed. This castle operates as a labyrinth when one is intoxicated. Or truly, just in general.” The other man grabs his arm delicately as they begin to move from the throne room. 

As the two move, he explains the inner workings for the revel. Yeosang is allowed at any time to rest in the rooms that have been prepared for his party. The last thing Hongjoong wishes for is his guests to feel forced to do absolutely anything. Maybe he is simply projecting, but he knows that bringing so many Fae together at once can be a loud and stressful situation for someone as quiet as Yeosang appears to be. Beside him, the Aos Si seems appreciative of the way Hongjoong speaks in detail. He nods along consciously, not moving to speak unless the Avalonian ruler prompts him, and takes careful steps along the stone walkways. 

v“What is Bylea like?” The question spurs a gentle grin out of the young prince. His attendants have fallen behind them by about twenty paces, giving the two the illusion of privacy, and Yeosang does not appear to be afraid of Hongjoong in the slightest. He waves a hand absentmindedly. 

“Beautiful, truly.” Yeosang’s features smooth into something peaceful. “My family tends to the ancient gardens more often than not. Our responsibility is to maintain an equal give and take of the land’s beauty without draining it entirely.” Hongjoong listens intently as Yeosang describes the soil. It is not particularly of interest to him, but Yeosang seems happy enough discussing it. “We get our energy from the nature around us and in turn we protect it. I’m sure you have something similar with the orchards here?”

“Of course. The largest grave site in Avalon is based along the pathways of the apple trees. My own parents are buried beneath the oldest tree in the kingdom. We leave this world as we are born; as part of the Earth.” Hongjoong feels a bizarre pang when speaking of the final resting places of so many Avalonians. Their bodies become one with nature and their souls are reborn into the realm. Dwelling on the thought for too long makes his heart palpitate uncomfortably. Yeosang, however, hums in understanding. Hongjoong supposes it is a similar situation for the Aos Si. Unless the rumors are true and the beings do not die. Desperate to change the topic, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Does your beauty come from Bylean lands as well as your energy?” The other looks up, flustered, as his face heats quickly. The tips of his ears are the first things to turn bright pink. A long sleeve comes up to cover his open mouth as the Bylean prince shakes his head furiously. Hongjoong realizes too late the forward nature of his statement. 

“I’m sorry,” he bumbles. “I don’t interact with Fae from outside of my own kingdom often. Nor those within, truly, when I think about it.” Hongjoong looks away, his burning face impossible to hide through his sheer tunic sleeves, and instead traces the blossoming orchids that line the path. “I also have no filter.”

Yeosang laughs at that. It is a deep, rich sound like brown sugar and molasses. “So it appears.” He brings his sleeve down, finally, and gently reaches for Hongjoong’s hand. “Prince Hongjoong, I appreciate the frankness you approach me with. Many fear the Aos Si for our connections to the ancient creations of the Fae. We are wingless, and frankly, it appears many Fae would rather us stay within the mounds from whence we came.” Yeosang pauses for a moment as if considering his next statement. “You are one of the first to approach me as a friend. For that, I find I must thank you.” 

With that, Yeosang releases Hongjoong’s palm. It drops to his side dully; still warm from the other’s touch. He reserves his expressions once more. Hongjoong watches as the same chilled demeanor falls back over the prince’s features. 

“If you do not mind, I would like to retire to my room before the revel. Three days of travel makes for an exhausted convoy and I feel I have pushed my party to their brink.” Yeosang bows deeply and Hongjoong returns the gesture. The Bylean’s robes billow softly behind him, almost mimicking wings, as he traverses back to his entourage. Before he takes his final steps to reuniting with them, however, Hongjoong calls out. 

“Prince Yeosang!” The other turns in alarm. Blue eyes lock onto Hongjoong’s and the Avalonian grins. “I appreciate having you as a friend. Thank you.” With that, the soon-to-be king prances back towards the castle; leaving the Byleans to do as they wish.

_ Uniting two kingdoms might not be the worst nightmare. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! This is my first ATEEZ fic. I would love to hear what you all think of it. Please let me know if you see anything that needs to be altered!  
> I am a poet and fantasy writer IRL so I thought I would write our boys into a realm I know best: Faeries. 
> 
> Find me on Insta, Twitter, and Tumblr: @Kyojinouji  
> (I love new friends and would love to be mutuals with more ATEEZ fans!)
> 
> Cheers and I'll be back soon with a new chapter.


	2. Are You With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence.   
> Brief mention of previous sexual assault. Mention of execution; with no imagery. Disturbing final image.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I've had this chapter ready for a few days, so I figured I would drop it now.   
> *Please heed the trigger warnings! None of the triggering substance is in detail, but I like to keep my readers safe and happy.   
> Also, there is a Spotify playlist for this fic linked in the lyrics below! Check it out while you read.

> [ _ “Are you with me? _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ _ Have you been with me all the time? _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ _ I sent a message to your memory last night. _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ _ It read, “I'll see you somewhere down the line.” _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ _ If you're with me then let's leave now.” _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ **_Are You With Me? -_ ** ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)
> 
> [ _ Stars _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=XFeDPHcsSEeILhTFUrU0ow)

_ It is a nightmare.  _ The first thing that Hongjoong is able to think since roughly noon is that the idea of sorting through dozens of people on the merit of an arranged marriage is an absolute nightmare. Every waking moment, there is a new figure sauntering up to him and promising wealth, fertility, and treasure. Some drag their daughters up to him and begin lengthy speeches on why she is the best option. The number of times he has had to turn down a hand outright because the daughter they are presenting is a child makes his stomach roll sickly. He can easily list off seventeen young women who were attempted bargaining pieces for a slice of kingdom pie. He did not think that he would need to set an age limit; rather he believed that other royals would want their children with someone in their age range. However, the public always found a way to feed their unquenchable avarice.

Fingers drumming on the throne’s wooden arms, he watches as Byeongkwan allows another family into the room. This one, however, is different than those he has seen over the last few hours. A woman, dressed in ornate green robes trimmed with gold, leads what appears to be her two sons into the throne room. The fabric of her gown moves softly as it brushes the floor gracefully and she grins brightly in the Kingling’s direction. One son is dressed in a simple set of tan and green robes. The other, however, wears a kaftan of the same embroidered material that is belted around his waist with silk. Around his neck dangle dozens of golden coins strung along dainty, wooden beads. A delicate circlet settles just above his brow; a single emerald hanging from its center. 

The woman bows deeply before him, drawing Hongjoong’s attention to the way her hair is braided behind long, drooping ears of green fur. They would be otherwise indistinguishable from the long waves of her hair if not for the golden threads spun through each braid along the base of the ear. Hongjoong looks quickly to the men beside her, comparing their attributes, and realizes that the family before him is of Cu Sith descent. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, King Hongjoong.”

“Ah- I am afraid that ‘King’ is a bit premature.” He laughs gently and is almost surprised when the son returns the deep chuckle. “I am honored that your family has traveled here from…?”

“Vertvale, your majesty.” The son wearing the kaftan speaks up this time; earning a startled glance from the woman. “My father apologizes for his absence. It was his goal for months to come to the revel, however, war has recently struck our borders. My younger brother, Gunho, comes in his stead alongside our mother, Queen Amcerla.” Both bow before him.

“And your name, fair prince?” Hongjoong toys with the wood grain of the throne. It has begun to wear from years of use. He makes a mental note to tend to it after the madness calms down.  _ If it does.  _ He cannot slow the pittering of his heart against his ribcage. Meeting those his age, that are obviously here as a response to his search, leaves him desperately wishing to please. 

The man smiles widely, the gentle protrusion of his canines cause Hongjoong’s eyes to widen comically.  _ God, how did every other Fae get blessed with fangs? _ The Avalonian watches as the Cu Sith kneels deeply in front of the throne. He places a single hand over his heart in a submissive, but loyal, gesture.

“Prince Jeong Yunho, at your service, your majesty.”  _ Oh _ . At his service? They were most certainly equals. Something about the gesture, however, makes heat rush to Hongjoong’s face. Beside him, he hears Junhee laugh quietly under his breath.  _ Right _ .

“It is the greatest pleasure to meet you, Prince Yunho.” The other begins to rise and Hongjoong makes the startling realization that his height does not stop. Even Chan is shorter than the royal in front of him.  _ Good lord _ . Hongjoong beats down the thoughts that begin to spiral out of control. This time, it is Sehyoon who has the audacity to chuckle at his expense. The Avalonian shoots a glare in the Fae’s direction. He will most certainly have a talk with his wonderful guards about upholding their crown prince’s image. “I hope you have found your accommodations suitable. If there are any issues that arise, please do not be afraid to let a member of my staff know.”

Yunho offers him yet another blinding smile.  _ Damn, how white could those fangs be?  _ The thought flickers through his mind’s eye quickly. What alarms him the most, however, is the image of those fangs dripping with venomous red. Vertvale is a Seelie nation. That much calms the soothsaying that tries to wrap its vice around Hongjoong’s trust. He bats the vision away quickly. When he glances back to the Jeong family before him, he notices the bushy, curling tails that wag slowly behind the sons. Gunho, as though sensing where Hongjoong’s attention has been drawn, promptly allows his to droop. He slinks timidly behind his older brother. 

“Thank you. Our rooms just so happen to overlook the southern woodline. It’s a welcome vestige of home.” Queen Amcerla bows, her voice like summer breeze pushing through treetops. “However, onto the reason we chose to introduce ourselves prior to the revel…” She drifts off, as though regarding her next words fondly. Hongjoong knows what to expect. It was an option, not a requirement, that the guests visit the throne room for introductions. Many have chosen to do so, by way of making a memory, and nearly all have presented him with a marriage opportunity. He is thankful for it, but is set on holding the competition anyways. No amount of bargaining could draw his favor towards someone prior. Unless…

Hongjoong stares down at the Cu Siths before him. Yunho, he notices, no longer wags his tail with leisure. Instead, it is pulled close to his body. The long fur winds its way from his shin down to the base of his ankle. Yunho is attractive, to say the least, with large, deep mahogany eyes and fluffy brown hair. Unlike his mother’s, his ears are a mossy tone and cropped short, hanging just to the curve of his jaw. They have been threaded with dozens of golden beads.  _ Are they heavy? _

The queen continues, or possibly has been for a few moments before Hongjoong tuned back into reality, and motions between her son and the Avalonian with gusto. “...we are a peaceful nation, but a protective one. Uniting our lands would provide Avalon with an army of loyal guardians. Not to suggest that the military of Avalon does a poor job,” she glances at his guards wearily. “Simply to say that more man power is better than to have none. Vertvale is also rich with fertile soil and precious minerals…” Hongjoong wants nothing more than to speed through the formalities. As important as everything the queen is saying is, he is beginning to tire of being nothing more than a pawn for expansion. Yunho meets his gaze and offers a sympathetic smile before placing his hand on the woman’s arm.

“Mother, I believe we have said our piece for now. Prince Hongjoong must have hundreds of other eligible partners lining up to discuss political benefits.” The Cu Sith’s eyes wrinkle in a devastatingly precious fashion as he looks back to his brother. Gunho scoffs lightly and immediately seems to think better of it as he pulls a hand up to cover his mouth. The gesture reminds Hongjoong of the Bylean prince, Yeosang, and he cannot help but chuckle. Gunho stares back, eyes wide, and if Hongjoong did not know better, he would think the boy was surprised he had a sense of humor. Or a personality at all for that matter. 

In front of the young prince, Queen Amcerla nods along with Yunho’s suggestion. She shrugs sheepishly before bowing low to Hongjoong. “I apologize. I have been rehearsing this speech in my head since my dearest, Yunho, was born. You know how it is.” The queen looks fondly at her son; a hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw in a gentle, motherly motion. Hongjoong feels a sudden pang of loss as he remembers his own mother doing the same for him and Maddox alike. “I tend to ramble. What would I do without you, sweetheart?” 

The oldest son leans into the touch tenderly; his cheeks dusted with pink. Hongjoong assumes it to be a mix of embarrassment and love. As adorable as the scene is, he can sense the youngest son desperately wishing to be anywhere but here. “Would you like one of my guards to lead you back to your accommodations?” A puzzled look crosses Yunho’s face as Hongjoong speaks. “The castle is difficult for first timers to navigate. Honestly, I somehow find myself in the middle of the kitchen wing more often than not.” 

“And it is never an accident.” Jun mumbles beside him. Instead of dignifying him with a response, Hongjoong rolls his eyes. It is improper, but he does not believe the family in front of him will mind much. He looks over to see Gunho giggling lightly again.  _ At least someone is amused. _

Yunho shakes his head. “No, thank you, your majesty. Your hospitality is well appreciated.” His tail, Hongjoong notices, must have unwound sometime during the conversation. It swishes behind him; seemingly keeping an unheard beat.  _ Does it mean he’s content? _ The thought surprises him.

Suddenly, the tail stops moving entirely. Yunho stares back at him with his head cocked slightly to one side.  _ Oh.  _ He hears the distant echo of his own voice fading from the abyss of the throne room.  _ Oh no.  _ Another stunning grin cracks across the Cu Sith’s face. “Yes. It does.” He bows before motioning to signal the family’s departure. As he turns to leave, Yunho has the audacity to add, “It means I’m thrilled, actually.” And with that, the royal family of Vertvale exits the throne room. Hongjoong’s face burns. 

✧ ✧ ✧

Finally, Hongjoong is freed from his responsibilities after Donghun deems Hongjoong’s conversational skills “cruel and unusual punishment”. Walking towards his personal corridor, he desperately dreams of the plush down of his bed. Maybe, he’ll even treat himself to a quick bath before the festivities begin. He is not required to appear before the Courts until the revel kicks off. Opening ceremonies have never been his favorite thing. Building the hype for an incredibly drawn out night, or ten, of dancing and eating is difficult when one can barely hold a conversation. He has yet to meet many Unseelie guests. As such, it means that many must be planning their grand entrance as the revel is underway. Fear itches at the back of Hongjoong’s mind like a thorn in his side.

Chan escorts him into his bedroom and does a quick once-over before nodding in the prince’s direction. “Are you planning on relaxing before the revel begins?” Chan leads against the doorframe. One hand rests on the blade strapped to his thigh.

“Mhm- I thought about a nap,” Hongjoong yawns and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t sleep much last night.” He had stayed awake running over the nitty-gritty details of the event. 

Chan hums in agreement before pushing off of the wall. “I can’t imagine you did, Joong.” The human turns to leave before casting a glance back at Hongjoong, who lays face down on his mattress. The comforter threatens to swallow him whole. “Should I draw you a bath? It might ease the tension in your muscles.” Hongjoong mumbles into the blankets. Irritated, Chan makes his way across the room. “Hongjoong, speak up. My hearing isn’t as impeccable as everyone else here.”

Hongjoong groans, lifting his torso enough so that he can glare at the taller man. “For a sorcerer, you sure are an asshole sometimes.” Chan barks out a laugh. “I said no. I’ll do it myself when I’m ready to join the land of the living again.” With that, he slams his face back into the bed, effectively ending the conversation.

“For a king, you sure are a child.” Chan barely manages to close the wooden door before a pillow slams into it. His response comes through as a muffled, “Too slow, little prince!” He makes a mental note to burn the next grimoire of Chan’s he stumbles across. It’s the last coherent thought he has before he snuggles deeper into the comforter and drifts off. 

_ “Look around you.” The voice is deep and sultry, but has the undertone of the bitterness one tastes when biting into a green apple. It draws him in and he refuses to let go of it. He tries to respond, to ask who is there, but his voice comes out only as a gentle push of spring breeze.  _

_ The soil beneath him has run dry. Every step crunches; the brittle bones of the Earth. With each breath, he finds it harder to hold onto it. Above him, a blue sun burns bright. And God, it hurts. Skin blistering under the sweltering rays, it’s like being boiled alive. Gold dust tinkles as it settles in the dirt. It’s the sound of hundreds of tiny, broken seashells hailing against the dried loam.  _

_ In the distance, he can make out dozens of arrows littering the ground. Above all, stands a rudimentary flag pole. Waving on the splintering wood is a black and white striped sign, embroidered with a single phrase. ATEEZ.  _

_ “Open your eyes.” _

Hongjoong wakes up, disoriented, to the sound of running water. Rubbing his eyes, he pushes himself into an upright position and glances around the room. Everything is how he left it, save for the orange rays of sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. Chan must have assumed that Hongjoong would not wake up in time to draw his own bath prior to the revel. 

He unlaces the boots he forgot to remove before his nap and sets them at the base of the bed. Socked feet touch the cold tile, soaking up the chill, as he meanders to his wardrobe and pulls out a delicate lace tunic. It is navy blue and embroidered with hundreds of intricate suns, moons, and stars. When the piece moves, it looks like the night sky met the day for a simple dance. The lace in the back billows down into a long trail; giving the illusion of height. He plans to pair it with a devastating pair of leather pants he once had Chan bring him from the human realm.

Hongjoong strips down into the nude and wraps a towel around his waist. While he grew up with his guards, he still prefers to reserve some sense of modesty. As he makes his way into his personal bathroom, he calls out a greeting to Chan. “Thank you for doing this. I overslept, somehow, so I guess you were right about me needing that break.” Rounding the corner, he finds the room to be absolutely empty. The tub has been filled to the brim and decorated in a sprinkling of lavender and rose. The scent of sea salt tingles his senses; sending the hair on his neck into a frenzy. “Chan?”

He waits for a response, but receives none.  _ He must have slipped out while I was getting undressed.  _ The thought prickles the sensitive part of his brain that strives to protect his modesty in the best way it can.  _ I hope he did not see my- _

Hongjoong’s internal monologue is cut short as the water ripples. Panicked, he backs up until his back is pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink behind him. Suddenly, a drenched figure springs from the depths. His white hair is pushed against his face in a way that reminds Hongjoong of a mop. Hongjoong does not realize the high pitched scream echoing through the bathroom is his own until the creature pushes his bangs back. The corners of his icy-blue eyes crinkle as he begins to let loose wild, loud cackling. It only grows louder when Hongjoong realizes he has dropped his towel. His own tail, lion-like and tufted at the end with thick, red hair, swishes back and forth angrily. It’s the kingdom’s best kept, and most important, secret. Thank the gods that the man before him had seen it during a hundred baths through childhood.

“Wooyoung!” The Asrai doubles over in front him, completely nude, and grinning like a mad man. “Jung Wooyoung, why are you in my bathtub?” Hongjoong struggles to rewrap the towel around his hips; holding it closed for extra support. Wooyoung adjusts to his full height with his hands proudly curled against his waist, displaying his full body; much to Hongjoong’s dismay. “Yah! Grab a towel! You know where I keep them.”

“Joongie, I thought you would be more excited to see me. Afterall, it’s not often we get to visit each other.” Wooyoung grins widely and Hongjoong immediately fears what innuendo will spill from his lips next. “Not after my wedding.” 

“I’m surprised your husband is not attached to your hip. Where is that trickster bastard?”

Wooyoung gasps dramatically before barking out another high-pitched laugh. “Sannie is making his rounds.” A descendant of Reynard the Fox “making his rounds” through his kingdom? Hongjoong mentally braves himself for the pile of pickpocket complaints he knows he will have to sort through after the revel.

“Do we need to craft him a leash?” Hongjoong rubs the bridge of his nose. If a migraine forms before the music even begins, what kind of host would he be?  _ Hopefully, not one at all.  _ Wooyoung finally steps out of the bathtub, his long dragon-fly wings beating frantically to rid themselves of the excess liquid. Despite being an aquatic being, Wooyoung preferred the company of the land to those within the sea. Asrai had the ability to dissolve in the water. Wooyoung said that, while the perfect party trick, it made him wonder if he was truly getting every bit of himself back the moment he resurfaced. As kids, Hongjoong once asked how it felt. 

_ “Remember the fizzy drinks Chan brought back from his human parents that one time?” Hongjoong nodded. He had hated them, but loved Chan’s attempt to educate the Fae about human customs. “It’s like when you take a big gulp of one of those. And you hold it in your chest for a really long time- long enough that you can’t breathe- and then the bubbles kind of move out to the rest of your body.” _

_ “Does it hurt?” _

_ “No, but I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m not myself.” _

Hongjoong leaves the room briefly to grab a towel from the outer powder room before tossing it at Wooyoung’s head. “Do not get my floor wet.” Wooyoung catched the towel with little effort and wraps it around his waist leisurely. 

“Little late for that, your majesty.” His smile widens when Hongjoong groans.

“Can I trust that San is not going to show up while I’m bathing?” Wooyoung starts to respond, but Hongjoong interrupts him before he can. “And that you two are not going to have terribly fast sex on my bed in the meantime?”

“Terrible, fast, and San are not things that should be said in the same few lines.” Wooyoung squeaks as Hongjoong flicks his forehead. “Your bed is safe for now, little prince. Enjoy your soak.” As Wooyoung goes to leave, he spins around to tickle Hongjoong’s waist. Hongjoong screeches loudly before pushing the younger from the room and slamming the door. As Hongjoong settles into the warm, floral water, he realizes that none of his guards came running the moment the commotion began. Suddenly, it is clear how Wooyoung snuck in.  _ Assholes _ .

✧ ✧ ✧

As he stands before hundreds of dancing figures, Hongjoong cannot help the sudden sting that comes with memories of Maddox. The former king adored revels more than he valued his own safety. It was a way to interact with Fae from every walk of life. He told Hongjoong that his treasure was all of the knowledge he pulled from the people around them. Hongjoong could not be more different. While he loved to learn about the thousands of cultures throughout the Tír na nÓg, he preferred to do so from the comfort of his bed; studying from one of the dozens of leather-clad books Sehyoon left on his desk. 

He knows that it is time to announce the competition’s beginning. The nagging part of his mind, the one that wants nothing to do with royalty or being king, screeches with his every attempt to give the speech. Beside him, Donghun seems to sense his apprehension. A palm rests gently on the small of his back and Hongjoong looks to the Selkie in alarm. 

“You’ll be a great king.” The words thunder through his mind. No matter how many times he hears them, or how loud they are truly spoken, they echo like a mountainous call into the open wild. “One day, you will look back on these moments and realize that what we have told you all these years is true.”

Hongjoong keeps his voice low. Both for the fear that if he speaks louder, the public may turn to him and that his voice may crack embarrassingly if he tries. “And if I do not want to be? What if I do not want to be anything other than a prince?” 

Donghun laughs; the warmth of his palm leaving the prince’s back suddenly. “Then we will stand beside you as you drive us into ruin. I’m unsure if you’re aware of it, but you’re stuck with us, sire.” Tears threaten to spill over Hongjoong’s burning cheeks as he scoffs bitterly. 

“Loyalty is your mortal sin, Donghun.”

“Then, I best be glad I am not a mortal.” The other man turns away from him and begins surveying the crowd once more. Hongjoong considers the pep talk, if one could call it that, to be at a close. His resolve flickers gently against the brewing storm around them.  _ It is now or never.  _ In the distance, he sees a flash of white hair spinning alongside a figure of black and turquoise. San and Wooyoung make a powerful couple. Kings of two nations, of the land and sea; together they radiate an intense aura. It’s quite like staring into the sun. The thought whips Hongjoong back into his earlier dream. Carefully, he pushes the image away, but not before bile burns the base of his throat.

As though sensing Hongjoong’s attention on him, San looks directly at him. Locking eyes, the fox gives him a dimpled grin. He breaks his hold on Wooyoung’s waist to toss two thumbs up in the Avalonian’s direction. The two men slow the spin they were in the middle of until Wooyoung is facing the throne. He traces his husband’s line of sight until he sees Hongjoong. He waves enthusiastically and Hongjoong immediately wonders if the smile on his face is from the wine or excitement. Wooyoung points at San while mouthing, “he’s so hot”, and the soon to be king stifles a bark of laughter. If anyone can pull him out of a sour mood, or put him into one, it’s Wooyoung. He takes a deep breath before he gives the go-ahead to Chan. The human casts a quick amplification spell and Hongjoong’s advisor, Felix, pounds his flowering staff against the bricks of the kingdom square. Suddenly, the revel falls silent.  _ Now or never. _

“Welcome to Avalon. I will not take up much of your time,” He listens to a circle of Fae cackle in the distance. Between them, four humans dance mercilessly. He knows they will do so until they collapse; if not longer. But as Fae, he also knows that he cannot stop them. If he does, it would be easy to start rumors about a possible affinity for mortals. It would put many of the changelings, including Chan, that Avalon harbors at risk. Instead, he stares ahead stoically. One day, he will outlaw the spiriting away of humans. But, that day is not today. He continues, “As many of you know, tonight begins the revel of a lifetime. King Maddox has vanished from Avalon.”

A whisper runs through the crowd. He catches a flash of mossy brown in the distance, speaking quietly with a red-haired Fae that matches the Cu Sith’s height. Hongjoong pushes forward; heart hammering to an invisible dance. “To celebrate both my brother’s memory, and move forward with Avalon’s future, we have invited hundreds from both courts, Seelie and Unseelie, for a night, or ten, that they will never forget. 

“Here, I will be searching for a suitable partner to rule alongside me. Call me a traditionalist, but marriage is something I have always thought about.” His tongue feels honey-ladden. It is not a lie, he has always thought about marriage. It just was not something he sought after desperately. Now, knowing that Avalon’s crown would reject him instantly without someone of royal blood bound to him, he cannot help but think only of finding a suitable partner. His tail throbs painfully at the thought; bound tightly beneath his pants and against the back of his thigh.. A gift from his biological father; the one who stole his mother’s trust and barred him from ever ascending to the throne of Avalon. The man who raised him was the late King of Avalon. The man who stepped up to care for his hurting wife, rather than abandoning her after the brutal attack on her innocence, and vowed to care for the child she carried. Even if the baby was not his by blood, he would raise him as his own son. They hid the truth from the people of Avalon, executed the attacker, and told Hongjoong never to reveal his tail to anyone outside of the most elite staff and Wooyoung. Maddox was raised to be king and Hongjoong a scholar. It was a good plan. It should have worked. Looking out into the eyes of hundreds, he is reminded that it did not. 

“Tonight, I will walk among you. A glamour will be cast to protect my identity and the first challenge any potential suitor will have to excel at is by far the most important: impress me.” He cocks his head to the side, a grin playing across his features. He wonders what these people think of him. Raising his arms, he places both hands on the gold and sapphire encrusted circlet that weighs heavily on his brow. It is not the real circlet of the kingdom. His father had a copy of the true antique created to give the illusion of honesty. Hongjoong pulls, lifting the piece from his head, and sets it on the silken pillow Sehyoon produces. “If you will excuse me, it is time for me to go slip into something more comfortable.” With that, Sehyoon grabs his arm gently, steadying him as the two flicker out of the crowd with a flash of blue.

As the two blink into Hongjoong’s chambers, he cannot help but let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. The Will O’ Wisp shakes his head, tension apparently leaving his shoulders as well, as Hongjoong falls onto his bed. The mattress sinks gently beneath the other’s weight as he settles onto the edge of it. 

“Wow.”

“I told you before, we might as well change your name to ‘Wow’ if you’re going to keep saying it.” Hongjoong’s words pack no bite. Instead, relief floods the room; lifting the atmosphere significantly. He glances at the other man before rubbing the space between his eyes. “Did I sound as ridiculous as I felt?” 

A different voice sounds off from the doorway, “You commanded your audience. Speaking suits you, Joong.” Junhee leads the other four members of the guard into the room. His brown hair curls slightly over his long ears. For once, Hongjoong notices, he has threaded long golden chains through the piercings in his pointed ears. From them, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies drip. 

“I suppose it’s time for the big reveal, huh?” 

Byeongkwan shakes his head. “I do not think ‘reveal’ is what you’re going for with this challenge.”  _ Right _ . The goal is to blend in. Thankfully, it is something he feels he will be rather good at. For the night, his name will be Xion from Senalia. He is not a prince, rather a high-class Dryad who specializes in herbature. His stomach turns frantically as he thinks of maintaining the image of such a carefree spirit. Chan meets his wandering gaze and gives him a sympathetic pat on the knee. 

“You’ll be fine, Joong. Dryads care about nature as much as you do. Talk about orchard maintenance if you get nervous.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure no one will think much of it.”

“Does Senalia even have orchards?”

“Most places do.” Chan motions for Hongjoong to stand up. “We need to get you back out there. The sooner you pick a mate, the sooner this is all over.”

Hongjoong groans. “Please, for all things holy, do not say mate.” A sigh resounds from the group around him. “Fine. I’m getting up. Just do not say this is all my fault when everything blows up rather unceremoniously in our faces.” He pushes himself from the bed, boots hitting the ground with a rough patter, before turning to face the human. “Do your worst.”

Chan closes his eyes and the prince follows. The air around them buzzes with unrestrained magic the moment Chan releases it. Warmth spreads over Hongjoong steadily, starting from his toes and working its way up. When the magic dissipates from the room, a chill settles over the prince’s skin. “Open your eyes.”

Hongjoong spins towards the floor length mirror attached to his wardrobe. A glance at his reflection pulls him back to reality quickly. Staring back at him is a set of icy grey eyes and a man who is approximately three inches taller than the prince himself. His red strands have been replaced with long, grey waves. A select few sections have been pulled into small braids that hang beside his pointed ears. His fanciful attire is now a billowy white blouse with a ruffled, high collar and white slacks. Over this is an off-white, low-cut tunic that is belted at the waist with a white silken ribbon. Even the leather of his knee-high boots has turned light. He whirls on the sorcerer. 

“What am I? A virgin sacrifice?”

“Well, you are a virgin,” Donghun quips. He squawks as Byeongkwan swats at his thigh. “Sire, you’re a vision in white.” 

“Donghun,” Sehyoon’s voice comes out tired. “Stop talking for once.” The wisp moves to stand beside Hongjoong. “Do you not like it, your majesty? We thought it would be the easiest way to disguise you.”

“By drawing attention to me? Who wears this much white?” 

“That’s the point, Joong.” Junhee does not sound as disappointed as the others. “Most everyone at this revel is trying to impress you. In order to blend in, you must stand out.”

It’s as though Jun is trying to say, ‘ _ Who would expect a bull in a china shop?’  _ Hongjoong finds himself following along. There are so many odd outfits tonight, of course the only way to blend in would be to dress in a similar fashion. He nods slowly.

“If you would like me to alter the design, I can.” Chan picks at his fingernails, inspecting them for who knows what, and does not meet Hongjoong’s eyes. “If not, you should be getting back down there. I’d hate for you to draw this on longer than you have to.”

Hongjoong scoffs. “You and me both.” He looks to Sehyoon. “I guess it’s only right that we head back.” The five say their goodbyes, knowing the rest of the revel will be spent maintaining a detailed view, but keeping distance. With a flicker and pop, they arrive just outside of the boundary of the woods surrounding the kingdom.

“See you on the other side, Joong.” And with that, the wisp flickers out of view again. Hongjoong knows that he is simply walking between the realms, that he is right beside him just invisible, yet he cannot help but feel impossibly alone. The night air bites at his pale cheeks as he begins the trek back to the square. 

Off the bat, people begin to notice the Avalonian. Despite being a dryad, there are parts of him that Chan could not glamour entirely, including his walk. He reeks of nobility, and for the first time, the feeling makes him shrink in on himself. Hongjoong has always been aware of the public’s gaze, but the way it catches him for a few frozen seconds before flickering on intensifies the feeling of being watched tenfold. It is not long before he is standing alongside one of hundreds of punch tables, clutching a glass of nectar, before the tall beast Yunho was speaking to earlier saunters up to him.

“The Crown Prince of Avalon sure knows how to make an entrance, huh?” For a moment, Hongjoong panic, wondering if the man is poking fun at him. However, he quickly realizes that the guest is simply remarking on the beginning of the challenge. “I could not get a good look at him. He’s pretty tiny.” One eye is covered by a white eyepatch. The man’s red hair falls against his forehead daintily and Hongjoong watches his slim tail wrap around a freshly poured glass of nectar. Feeling the weight of the prince’s gaze, the man smirks sheepishly. His thin shoulders come up into a shrug as he motions at the way his tail curls around the cup. “If you got it, flaunt it, you know?” 

“I had no clue tails could do that.” The man laughs, it’s deep and full of warmth. Hongjoong wants nothing more than to curl up in it and take a nap. The prince’s face floods with heat. “I mean, I suppose one would need a tail to test things like that out.”

“That they would.” The man, a Cat Sith, lifts the cup to his lips. His long eyelashes brush his cheeks as he drinks; a contented look plastered across his face. Hongjoong feels a spark of pride for his kingdom’s distilleries. “I’m Song Mingi. I’m the third heir to the Tialklan throne, but do not tell the prince that. I would hate to damage my chances with him just because I’m a little further down the line.”  _ That does not matter.  _ Hongjoong would never eliminate a potential partner simply because of what place he holds in his lineage. 

Mingi holds out a hand and Hongjoong immediately latches on. “Xion of Senalia. My people hold very little regard for family names. It’s a bit difficult to keep track when most trees do not talk. It’s quite awkward, running up to a grand oak and expecting a hug from your favorite uncle. Instead, you end up with splinters.” He’s already doing it; he’s rambling and he already feels his feet step over the edge before he manages to close his mouth. Mingi does not seem to mind, however, as another bark of laughter rolls off of his tongue. This one deeper than the last. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Xion of Senalia. Remind me to visit sometime. It sounds like a wonderful-” He is cut off by a high pitched wail that pierces through the party around them. It is a horribly painful sound, enough so that Hongjoong’s hair stands on edge as he fights the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. “Fuck! Who the hell let a Banshee in here?” Mingi holds both of his free hands over his ears. Hongjoong struggles to do the same by smashing his glass of nectar onto the brick beneath them.

Through teary vision, he searches the revel for his guards. They have begun to close in on a set of two men, one of which holds his own hands over his ears, but his eyes show everything. He is the one who set the Banshee off. As Hongjoong begins to race towards the scene, he feels Mingi grab his wrist. 

“Why the hell are you running  _ towards  _ it?” The Cat Sith’s pupil has narrowed into a sharp slit in the center of his golden gaze. He makes to tug Hongjoong away from the action, a protective gesture that he would have been otherwise thankful for, but the Avalonian pulls him along with him until they reach the epidemic. 

The Banshee is not impossibly tall, but muscular. He covers his own ears as he sinks to the ground. Chan, Hongjoong notices, works quickly to throw a sound barrier around the poor Fae. As silence falls over the revel for the second time that night, Hongjoong looks to the other creature that the Banshee seemingly cornered. 

His black hair swoops across his forehead in an obviously meticulous style. From his back sprout two sets of tiny, black beetle wings. The bottom set seems to have been singed beyond use. From his head, two black horns curl slightly and extend towards the back of his skull. As Yeosang helps the Fae, the Phouka rather, up-  _ where did Yeosang come from?  _ Hongjoong glances around the circle to see Yunho, Mingi, San, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and his guards. Aside from the thirteen of them, all other attendees have distanced themselves from the epicenter of the scene. Something clicks into place. 

“What did he say to you? Before he started to scream?” Hongjoong pushes him verbally. The Phouka glances up at him, aqua eyes watering either from pain or terror, and shakes his head. “Please, good sir, we need to know. The Banshee has seen your death; we need to know if we can protect you.”

“It was not only my death.” His voice is timid; softer than Hongjoong expected. “He told me that I will be the one to grind the bones of the brittle Earth.” Hongjoong’s heart runs cold as an icy chill winds down his spine. “He saw thirteen ends and mine was but one of them.” A sudden strangled sobs wracks its way through the Fae’s trembling frame. 

_ “In the smoldering ruins of Avalon’s orchards, he saw the king’s head on a pike.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, loves! I hope this chapter was alright. If they are too long or packed with way too much detail, please let me know! I'm a poet first and a fiction author/human second, so sometimes I get to be overbearing with imagery. I currently only have one more chapter backlogged, so after that, updates may come a little slower. There are approximately 11 total, each will average between 5k-10k words so I apologize in advance.  
> With that, the gang is all here! There will be cameos of other groups throughout the later chapters, but our main cast is present.
> 
> Find me on Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji  
> (I love friends and would adore more mutuals that like ATEEZ!)
> 
> Cheers!


	3. Over the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence.  
> Brief mention of decapitation at the very, very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! This chapter is a bit chonky. Sorry! I thought about splitting it into two but then I chose not to.  
> *Please heed the trigger warnings! None of the triggering substance is in detail, but I like to keep my readers safe and happy.  
> Also, there is a Spotify playlist for this fic linked in the lyrics below! Check it out while you read.

> [ _“Should I shut it out? Try and bar the door;_ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _Making fools of all who've gone before._ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _Should I let it in? Like an old friend;_ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _Thinking it's inevitable._ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _Every step, every move, I see Fire coming after you._ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _I see fire rollin’ up to my door, roaring outta control._ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _I see death leaning in for the kill coming over the hill.”_ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> [ _**Over the Hill** \- Wax // Wane _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vyAa7oIVxalD3Qd695BIA?si=YrZJ7rEHRj22sQzxpzT1ew)
> 
> * * *

The air around the thirteen of them is tense. Hongjoong struggles to breathe as the group stares between each other, daring someone to speak next, as he runs through their options. A stray piece of grey hair falls into his face and he startles; earning a confused glance from Yeosang. From the moment the two royals met, the Bylean has had a deep seated stare that appears to know everything. While the rational part of Hongjoong’s brain suggests that he chalk it up to the Aos Si’s ancient bloodline, the paranoid portion screams that the man knows every one of his secrets. Yunho is the first to break the silence. The Banshee lays against the physical wall of the sound barrier, his eyes tightly shut, and Hongjoong realizes that he has passed out from exertion. 

“Where is the crown prince?” The question wavers slightly in the air. “Should someone find him?” The Cu Sith’s tail droops low enough to brush the ground. A deep scowl crosses his features before Junhee responds. 

“He is safe. Members of the guard currently have sights on him and will be transporting him to safety soon enough. However, it seems he is not the only one that needs to be protected.” The attention falls onto the Phouka, who stands slumped against Yeosang’s dainty frame. The Fae’s eyes are wild, dancing over every figure that so much as twitches, and it takes him a few moments to realize the conversation has been brought to him.

“I’m alright.” He offers a weak smile to the group. Wooyoung, in turn, rolls his eyes dramatically. San’s grip on his husband’s hand is white knuckled and Hongjoong wants nothing more than to stand beside the familiar faces. 

“I haven't a clue how you do things in Grenumar, Prince Seonghwa, but here we take care of each other.” Wooyoung’s tone is clipped. Even after all of these years away, he still refers to himself as being a part of Avalon. The detail makes Hongjoong smile internally. “You’re not alright. Maybe you are physically, but you were just bitch-slapped by a prophecy-bearing Banshee. You’re allowed to reel for a bit.”

“I-” The Phouka, Seonghwa, flounders momentarily. “You’re absolutely correct, your majesty. I am absolutely at a loss for words.” It’s as though the admission makes him lose whatever resolve he had garnered. Seonghwa draws into himself tightly, arms wrapping around his middle, before closing his eyes tightly. “However, I agree with Prince Yunho,” Hongjoong realizes that over the years, each royal standing before him has probably met the others. Yet again, he is the odd-man out. “However safe the crown prince might be, I would prefer to know his location for certain. He is the reason we are all together after all.” Hongjoong feels multiple sets of eyes boring into him and he looks around to see every member of the guard, Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang, staring back. It seems that his cover was blown long before these events transpired. 

_“Oh_ , _hell_.” The glamour drops from his figure like a band-aid being ripped off quickly. “How long did you guys know?” The question is directed at the three guests. Yeosang shrugs. 

“Since you walked into the revel and stood off to the side like some forlorn wallflower.” The Bylean offers him a sympathetic look. “At some point during our walk, you mentioned selling your soul to the nectar distilleries. You drained about nine cups of punch before Mingi even approached you.” The Aos Si most certainly was more attentive than anyone else present. Even his guards. 

Mingi offers a deep laugh when the group turns to face him. “The crazy bastard ran towards the sound the moment it started. He even pulled me along.” He holds up a wrist, branded with fading red finger prints. “You’re a lot stronger than a Dryad who spends all of his time talking to plants.” He looks thoughtfully into the distance for a moment. “Also, your little family tree lesson kind of helped me figure it out.”

Wooyoung cackles off to the side. “His family what-” San cuts him off with a light jab to the side. The white-haired king squeaks in response, scuttling away from his husband. “Sannie!”

“How did you figure it out, Woo?” San’s dimples make another appearance and he gives a toothy grin to the group. “Come on, then, tell them what you told me.” He moves to prod at the other man’s side again before the Asrai leaps backwards further. 

“I told San-” He springs away from his husband again. “That Chan would definitely make Hongjoong look like a virgin.” San manages to capture the squirming Fae, holding him flush against his body, and spins him to face the group. “Also, that I would recognize that dick anywhere.” Hongjoong looks down in a panic to see exactly what the other man means. Wooyoung’s laughter is sharp and jarring. “Made ya’ look.”

“I mean not to interrupt the obvious fun you are having,” Seonghwa stares warily at Hongjoong’s true form. “But might I ask for a proper introduction? It seems as though we are going to be bound at the hip for the foreseeable future and I prefer not to work with those I have not formally met.” Hongjoong wonders if he always speaks so formally. The Phouka tilts his head slightly, as if waiting for a response in good nature, and Hongjoong realizes that the overly formal presentation was a joke. Extending an arm, the two shake hands and offer each other a low bow. 

“I apologize, Prince Seonghwa, unfortunately my cover has been blown much sooner that I expected.” He places an arm across his waist, bowing once more. The Phouka nods along; seemingly not put off by Hongjoong’s casual introduction. _He’s pretty._ The Avalonian beats the thought from his head with a wicker broom. _Not the time_.

“I apologize as well. My carriage underwent some minor hardships on the way in and we were stalled for time. I would have stopped by the throne room earlier for presentation if not for that.”

“Sounds tumultuous.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to get your sympathy.” Wooyoung stands with his arms crossed over his chest tightly. Sometimes, Hongjoong wonders why Wooyoung was not accepted into the royal guard. “He’s just after a piece of your ass.” The group collectively gasps while San sputters and scrambles to cover his husband’s mouth.

Seonghwa does not seem perturbed in the slightest however. Instead, the man laughs quietly. “Isn’t that why so many of us are here, dear Wooyoungie?” The Asrai bristles at the pet name. “Those of us that are not married, I suppose, which makes for everyone that are not you two.” Hongjoong feels himself suck in a slight breath. He knows he should break up the situation. He should call for the transport of the Banshee and have the group move to a private study. That he should resume the revel and pretend nothing is wrong. Instead, he glances between the two men before him and searches for whatever happened in the past. Junhee, growing visibly irritated with the exchange, throws an arm between the two Fae. 

“Jun-” Donghun’s voice permeates the air as a warning. 

“Will you both, _please_ , rein in your inhibitions before I am forced to physically apprehend you.” The leader of the guard’s speaking slowly, but far from cautiously, as he glares between the aggravators. “At this current moment in time, I could care less about your personal issues with each other. Whatever tension you are bringing to the table stops _immediately_ .” He looks to Hongjoong, who wrings his hands nervously and wants nothing more than to stand in a corner, far from all of the action. “Your Highness, lead this group to your private study. _And for the love of the gods-_ ” His fingers settle under Hongjoong’s chin, using the soft flesh to force the prince’s gaze into meeting his own. “Stand tall and walk straight. You are on your way to becoming king. Act as such.” With that, Jun motions to Byeongkwan and Sehyoon, signaling for them to accompany the group.

The revel has slowly delved back into full swing. A boisterous harmony pounds from the orchestra around them. The sounds do not match the atmosphere that suffocates the royals as they push through the crowd. Mingi is the first to try to break the tension. 

“You let your guards speak to you like that?”

Hongjoong looks to the taller man in confusion. “Like what?”

Yunho scoffs gently next to him, his arm coming up to settle around the Avalonian’s slim shoulders. “Like he is the king. Or your mother. I have been trying to piece it together for a while,” Yunho grins at the Fae beneath his weight. “Are you two together?” 

The air lights up with raucous laughter. Sehyoon stands, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, as Byeongkwan smacks his back gently. The group stills. Of course, it would be hilarious to the guards. Even Wooyoung chuckles behind a hand. 

“Junhee and Hongjoong? As if Donghun and Chan would let Jun out of their clutches.” Yunho’s mouth falls into a small ‘o’ as he processes the words. “The three of them have been bonded since we were kids. The first time Wooyoung tried to flirt with Chan, Jun almost threw him into the dungeons.”

“You actually have dungeons?” Yeosang’s question drifts through the air with a hint of humor. “We do not even have dungeons in Bylea. It angers the land.”

Hongjoong sputters, finally recovering from the abrupt interrogation. “No, we do not have actual dungeons it’s more like-”

“A library.” Byeongkwan supplies. Hongjoong does not miss the way the palm of his hand still rests on Sehyoon’s back; this time lower. “We have a library, not a dungeon, but can you imagine the King of Aotrel enjoying a space filled with bookshelves?”

The king in question scoffs. San, finding his husband’s indignation hilarious, holds his hand tightly. His dimples stand out prominently against his pale skin. Wooyoung tosses a few strands of white hair out of his eyes. “I am the King of Aotrel _and_ Loeilan, thank you very much.” 

“Actually, I am the King of Aotrel, love.” San grins. The sharp ridges of his fangs poke slightly over the plush of his bottom lip. “You’re just my beautiful side piece.” 

“I’m a nine course meal. You would not know a side piece if it took a bite out of your thigh.”

“Which you most certainly have-”

Seonghwa coughs, interrupting the lovers. His aqua eyes, despite being so full of fear only minutes earlier, now are misted over with something impatient. “As much as I enjoy your constant bickering, might I request that we continue moving forward? I have the greatest trust in your guards, Prince Hongjoong, but I feel eerily like a sitting duck out here.”

Hongjoong, realizing finally that they have not moved since Yunho’s question, nods frantically. “Yes, sorry.” Yunho mumbles something similar to an apology, as though taking the responsibility all for himself. “We should keep moving. My private study is close to my wing of the castle. It should not take us long to get there.”

As they push forward once again, Mingi chooses to speak up once more. “So, does that mean you are not seeing anyone?” He smiles brilliantly in Hongjoong’s direction. In the dim golden light of the revel, his hair burns like fire. “I would hate to see you relationship come to an end for an engagement.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Nor has he ever.” Wooyoung’s voice comes snarkily from behind him. While the younger Fae is not incorrect, hearing it out loud brings a furious blush to the elf’s cheeks. “Unless you count that tutor from, what? Nine years ago? Joongie had a terrible crush on that one.”

“It was not a crush! I was twelve years old and questioning a lot of personal things.” Hongjoong feels his face flush even further, the pointed tips of his ears burning, and he covers them with his palms. “Things I most certainly should not have trusted you with, I’m seeing.”

Wooyoung at least has the decency to seem taken aback. “Sorry.” He sounds at least slightly apologetic as the group walks through the main doors of the castle. “Nectar erases any filter I may have had.” Hongjoong only can huff in response, turning abruptly to take a sharp right up a secluded stairwell. Small talk has never been his favorite thing.

As they wind through the labyrinth of the castle, the group talks quietly amongst themselves. Hongjoong notices that at some point, Yunho and Mingi had begun to quietly call each other “dog” and “cat” respectively. From the depths of his memory, he recalls Chan explaining human affinity for the creatures. The changeling explained that humans often see Cu Siths’ and Cat Siths’ true forms as their beloved mundane pets. Something about the thought disturbs Hongjoong more than he would like to admit. 

By the time they reach the intricate wooden door of the private study, Hongjoong’s feet ache from the higher-than-usual heel of his boots. ‘Making an impression’, his ass. Chan knew what he was doing when he altered the shoes. He makes a mental note to rip them off the moment he is settled onto the cushy, velvet loveseat in the corner of the room. 

The door to the study is a cherry-colored wood. Etched into its design are a dozen golden snakes. Bordering its edges are hundreds of dainty apple blossoms. In the direct center of the door, an apple is frozen in the middle of an endless tumblr. His father’s magic radiates from the creation, buzzing the air with warmth and summer. Hongjoong places his right palm against the singular fruit. With his left, he traces the shape of an intertwined ‘M’ and ‘H’ on the back of the other hand. The gesture is quick, but he does not miss the weight of the other royals gaze upon his actions. 

“Maddox and I are the only ones with access to this room.” The group watches as each snake slithers beneath the floral patterns and out of sight. The frozen apple finishes its descent and cracks the moment it hits the base of the door. He nods in the direction of Sehyoon and Byeongkwan. The two enter the study first, surveying the impossible chance of an intruder, before giving the go-ahead. 

Yeosang hums quietly as he follows behind the Avalonians. “Is that safe? If your guards cannot enter, how will they know if something has gone wrong?” His deep voice echos lightly through the space. As Hongjoong beelines for his favorite couch, he shrugs. 

“I haven’t the slightest clue.” His fingers nimbly work to unlace the boots suffocating his aching toes. “By the time my guards woke me, Maddox was nowhere in sight. We have record that he was the last to enter this room, but never did he exit.”

Mingi gasps beside him. “You couldn’t possibly mean…” The Cat Sith glances around the room quickly. “He’s not still in here, is he?” Hongjoong’s mouth falls open slightly. Shock is not befitting of a king, but something about the naive air that radiates from the Tialklan prince has a way of catching him off guard more often than not. 

“N-no?” He snaps his jaw shut with a click. Laces forgotten in his fingers, he traces the faces of the group around him. Mingi leans against the large wooden desk with Yunho sitting in the chair behind it. Beside them, Yeosang kneels on the windows seat; peering through the silken curtains. Wooyoung is perched on the coffee table nearest to the door, San sprawled on the fainting couch, and Seonghwa stands in the doorway. He seems to be surveying the room cautiously. “Maddox was skilled in teleportation. He could have given Sehyoon a run for his money.”

“Why have us walk all the way here if Sehyoon can teleport so easily?” San fiddles with the lace of Wooyoung’s tunic. His black and blue hair fans out against the red velvet of the fainting couch angelically. The Will O’ Wisp chuckles from the hallway. A flash of green hair peeks around the corner, narrowly missing Seonghwa’s frame, as Sehyoon’s face appears in the doorway.

“It would be a little bit tiring to teleport thirteen people. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

San sits up, nearly knocking himself into Wooyoung, babbling. “No, no. I did not mean- I promise there was no actual venom behind my words. I’m just tired.” He runs a hand through his hair. His wedding ring catches the light; glittering spectacularly. “We’re all tired and on edge. Thank you for your service, Sehyoon. Byeongkwan too, of course.” The guards hum in response before returning to their posts outside the door.

Hongjoong meets Seonghwa’s distant stare and taps the open space next to him. “I promise I don’t bite.” He grins in what he hopes to be a reassuring manner. His tiny fangs are not a cause for concern, therefore, there is no reason for the Phouka to be intimidated. Somehow, though, he seems to be just that. Still, he treads carefully across the room and settles onto the other end of the velvet loveseat. Hongjoong takes in the way he holds himself. His limbs are pulled in tightly, as though he is unsure what to do with his long legs, and his arms fold in his lap. The Fae seems to wish he was smaller than he is. 

“Does anyone wonder where we went?” His voice is timid. Teetering with an uncertainty that Hongjoong relates to all too well. “Do they even care?” Hongjoong places a hand softly on the other man’s shoulder. Seonghwa starts, looking at him with wide, aqua eyes, before settling once more. 

“We can ask Chan’s group when they arrive with the Banshee.” The Banshee, who Hongjoong had never met in his entire life, yet still believe was familiar. The dark brown head of hair and round cheeks. He was someone that Hongjoong would not easily forget. “Have any of you met that Banshee before? I seem to have not had the pleasure.”

Mingi makes a noise of affirmation. “Once, I believe he’s the heir to the Neafri throne.” He pauses for a moment, long fingers rubbing the center of his top lip raw. “Haven’t seen him in a number of years at a revel though.” Yunho gasps.

“Jongho! His name is Choi Jongho. I knew that I had seen him somewhere before.” The Cu Sith’s tail wags furiously, daring itself too close to various breakables along the bookshelf behind him. “He predicted my grandfather’s death.” _Oh_.

“His prophecies come true, then?” Yeosang asks. “If he predicted it, I assume that means your grandfather passed on?” Yunho nods, a solemn look covering his features like a veil. 

“He did. It was of natural causes, however, there was no foul play.” Yunho toys with a resin paperweight that rests on the large desk. “It is not out of the normal for Banshees to predict things as such. To have a prophecy cast on us however is…”

“Unpleasant.” Seonghwa supplies. Each time he speaks, Hongjoong feels as though he must lean close to the Phouka. As if he may miss some important shred of information that the Unseelie is unwilling to dole out. “To say the least.” A hand absentmindedly runs through his black strands, barely brushing the base of his horns. Seonghwa does not look up from the dull spot he stares into on the floor. _To say the least?_

A sudden shuffling emanates from the doorway. The other three members of the guard carry a still unconscious Jongho between them. San, understanding the group’s hesitation, stands from the loveseat. He makes a wide sweeping gesture which Jun immediately returns with a thankful smile. The three gently settle the Banshee onto the cushions, their chests heaving slightly, as Donghun turns to Hongjoong.

“I have no idea why we sent Sehyoon with you. We should have kept him with us to transport the Banshee.” Donghun leans against the arm of the loveseat, panting lightly, and frowns at the Avalonian prince. “He is about 90% pure muscle.”

Yunho makes a quiet noise under his breath. One that Hongjoong cannot be sure if it is a laugh. Given their earlier conversation, he is probably due for a break from the heavy atmosphere. Mingi, however, seems to think the statement is hilarious. The red-head doubles over, crowing like an early rising rooster, and startling the group. 

“Of course, he’s pure muscle! He’s the very prince that can break open a melon with a single pinky.” 

“Ah, I feel as though that is a bit of exaggeration.” Yeosang turns from the window. His gaze falls onto the sleeping prince and Hongjoong swears that it softens. In the off-golden light of the study, the Bylean looks youthful and angelic. “He can most certainly tear just about any other fruit in half with his bare hands, though. It is quite a party trick.” 

Something clicks once more in Hongjoong’s mind. “You are acquaintances, I suppose?” The question hits the air with a considerable slur. _Oops_. Yeosang nods.

“He is my ex-fiance.” 

San makes a choking sound from where he sits in Wooyoung’s lap. Gauging the group’s faces, the admission comes as a surprise to everyone. Seonghwa covers his mouth with his palm, muffling his response, and even Hongjoog cannot hear it. The Avalonian has to remind himself seconds later to snap his jaw shut. Yeosang, however, does not appear to be bothered by the reaction.

Wooyoung’s sultry tones drift through the room. “What brought it to an end, if I might ask?” His husband looks as though he wants to smack the man for asking. The Bylean only nods softly. 

“War.” Silence falls over the room again; heavy and indifferent. “My father killed his brother during battle.” Hongjoong observes Yeosang’s fingers as they begin to tug at a loose thread on the curtains. “It was an engagement for love, but after that, I could not look at him the same. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was the way my father held his severed head like a trophy. When I looked at Jongho across the field as his kingdom surrendered, all I could imagine was it being him instead.” 

“Shit.” Wooyoung’s eloquence does not fail him. “That’s horrifying. I’m sorry that I brought it up.”

Yeosang shakes his head; waving off the apology without batting a single, long eyelash. “It needed to be said at some point, I presume. Clearing the air is probably our best bet at survival.” As the conversation begins to dim, the rest of the guard exits the room to speak amongst themselves about the proceedings. Hongjoong feels Seonghwa’s end of the couch dip as he curls his legs up to lean on the opposite arm of the chair. Hongjoong tries to catch his eye, but the other seems to be avoiding it entirely. _Wonderful_. 

“Might I suggest a game?” Hongjoong asks. The elf is desperate for anything that will distract them from their apparent doom. “After all, I have who I wanted for the second round of the revel. Nothing like taking advantage of unfortunate situations, if you know what I mean.” The group considers him as one. Slowly, he watches the tension leave their shoulders individually. Even Seonghwa, who inches slightly closer to him. 

Mingi smiles softly. “What sort of game, your highness?”

“A game of wit. I want to see how observational you all are.” Hongjoong glances to his childhood friend, who idly twirls a strand of San’s hair between his fingers. “Wooyoung and San obviously will not be competing in this. Yet,” San’s own piercing gaze meets his own. “I assume a certain trickster would love to wreck as much havoc as he can. Therefore, am I to assume you will be participating?”

San’s dimples make an appearance. “Of course. Wooyoung, dear, are you up for a good old time?” Wooyoung’s fingers halt. He glowers down at his husband before rolling his eyes.

“I do not want to participate, however, I will keep a close watch so that no one cheats.” He points a long finger at San. The digit presses against the tip of the other’s pointed nose. “Particularly, you.” His husband bites playfully at the slender finger before sliding off of Wooyoung’s lap. Hongjoong cannot help but smile at the domestic scene. From the corner of his eye, he sees Seonghwa do the same.

“The game,” Hongjoong begins, “will be a challenge of observation.” The room takes in a collective breath. “I am going to challenge Chan to cast a glamour over each of us. Afterwards, we will be led out into the hallway and then back in individually. The goal is for someone to correctly identify each person’s true identity. By the end of it, hopefully someone will have gotten them all correct.”

“And that person will be your mate?” Hongjoong sucks in a shallow breath at Yunho’s question. _Damn_ , he hates that word. No matter who says it, the phrase rolls awkwardly off of the tongue. There is nothing romantic about it. Instead of voicing his grievances, however, Hongjoong nods. 

“Potentially, yes. In my letter to each of your kingdoms, I mentioned that the winner of this challenge would be invited back to my private chambers for a particular test of courage.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Kinky. You really have to give them a warning for your fetishes, Joongie?” Hongjoong feels the heat flood his face instantly. Sputtering, he whips to glare at the Asrai. Instead of offering him a response, however, Hongjoong chooses to stick his tongue out. The dainty golden ball that pierces through the center of his tongue catches on his bottom lip briefly as he pulls it back in. Wooyoung gasps, but says nothing else. It’s something that Hongjoong is thankful for. He would rather the group suspect him of dirty thoughts than the fact that he will be using one of them to ascend to his family’s throne. 

Hongjoong stands and marches to the open door. Peering into the hall, his gaze lands on the human guard. Chan, sensing the elf’s presence, waves him over. “Everything alright?” The changeling seems to be more relaxed than he was earlier. Hongjoong nods; his eyes lingering over the other four members of the guard who continue to whisper amongst themselves.

“Surprisingly. I do need your assistance, however, if you have the energy for it.” Chan pushes himself from the stone wall behind him, bowing slightly, and cocks his head. “I need you to cast a glamour over a few of the royals here. We’ve decided to move forth with the competition.”

Chan seems to consider his words for a moment. “Are you sure that is wise?” His friend knows him well. He knows enough to question things that even Hongjoong seems certain of; possibly to prevent him from running into the knight’s corridors late at night in search of guidance. Hongjoong nods fervently. Chan grunts in understanding, silently telling him to wait inside while he informs the other guards, and Honjoong complies. 

Inside the room, the men murmur quietly in small groups. Yeosang has drifted to sit on the floor by Jongho’s feet and is speaking softly with San and Wooyoung. It is something Hongjoong makes a quick note of. His observational skills are something he prides himself in. The way Yeosang’s attention drifts into the middle distance as the couple discusses the politics of hydroponics does not go unnoticed in the slightest. Especially not as his fingers wrap tenderly around the sleeping Banshee’s hand. 

Even Mingi and Yunho laugh from their space across the study. Yunho’s tail wags wildly as Mingi tells a tale filled to the brim with large gestures. When Mingi turns to ask Seonghwa how he is fairing, Yunho’s gaze lingers on the dip of Mingi’s collarbone. It seems to Hongjoong that his potential partners have begun to pair off on their own. And shockingly, it does not surprise him. Instead, he makes his way back to his earlier seat next to Seonghwa and throws himself into it. What he does not expect is the way the cushions bounce up and down wildly. Or the way Seonghwa seems to lose his balance and fall onto his back directly into Hongjoong’s lap. _Oh_.

The Phouka squeaks loudly, drawing the attention of the crowd, and stares up at the Avalonian prince. Hongjoong lets loose a similar sound; one tinged with multiple colliding apologies. Before the two can speak, however, Chan enters the room. His focus falls directly onto the scene in front of him. 

“You’re moving rather quickly for someone who asked for advice on how to kiss a stable hand last year.” 

“Please tell me you did not kiss Hyunjin,” Wooyoung squawks. “He was off limits, Hongjoong! We agreed.” The Asrai shifts wildly on the table. “Hongjoong please.” San bats at his husband's chest playfully, mock offense blanketing his features. 

“Excuse me, I am right here.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes dramatically and glares at the Avalonian across the room. Hongjoong shrugs carefully, not wanting to respond to his friend’s indignation. The friend in question sighs before wrapping his arms tightly around San’s midsection. “Love, you do not understand just how betrayed I feel right now. Hyunjin was our game-”

“Do not call people _games,_ Woo.” Hongjoong interrupts. He shifts slightly, trying not to disturb the Phouka who has seemingly elected not to move from his lap. Rather, he has apparently made himself quite comfortable on the other man’s thighs. His back rests on the arm of the couch and his legs stretch along the cushions. His ass, however… Hongjoong is blatantly aware of the warm weight settled directly over his crotch.

Wooyoung, nor anyone else in the room for that matter, seems to sense his discomfort. Rather, he continues to ramble about aspects of the stablehand that he found particularly tantalizing. “His arms, god, I would have sold my soul just to have one of those wrap around my waist.” San pouts from his spot. 

“I have nice arms.”

“Yes you do, honey.” 

San guffaws. “Why have you not sold your soul for _my arms?_ ” His fox-like stare pins itself into Wooyoung’s face. His husband laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the tender curve of his neck. 

“What makes you think I haven’t?” The murmur is so quiet; something just for the two of them. Yet, they are in a social setting and it is not like the group can unhear the soft proclamation. Hongjoong feels Seonghwa shift uncomfortably and the two share a knowing glance. It’s obvious to see how in love the two kings are. It is something that Hongjoong wishes he could have one day for himself.

Chan chooses that moment to redirect the group’s attention once more. His hair is mussed, reminding Hongjoong that the sorcerer is the only human being present, and must be exhausted from the night’s actions. As Chan clears his throat again, Seonghwa finally slides from his lap. The lack of warmth is immediately missed, but the prince schools into an expression just short of disappointed. 

Chan’s voice skins the air. “Who is participating?” Around the room, nearly every hand goes up, save for Wooyoung and Jongho. The Banshee’s chest rises and falls slowly. Chan’s attention falls on the sleeping man; a frown casting over his lips. “What about him? He will not be much help if he is not conscious.”

Yeosang interjects, a protective hand intertwining the Banshee’s fingers with his own, “He is not part of the marriage competition.” The news comes as a surprise as the room turns to face the quiet Aos Si. “He is engaged already.”

“But you said your engagement-”

“He is not engaged to me.” The man fiddles with a small, crystal embedded band on Jongho’s finger. It twists slowly, catching the light at every turn, and shoves an icy dagger into Hongjoong’s spine each time. “To the princess of Ozozar.” Yeosang finally meets Hongjoong’s eyes. Those damn cerulean pools that threaten to drown anyone who looks too closely. Hongjoong can see, despite only knowing the Blyean prince for a short amount of time, that he cares intensely about those he surrounds himself with. Moreso, however, the one who sleeps soundly behind him. Hongjoong can only nod. He does not question Yeosang’s determination, nor his desire to participate in the challenge, but he does wonder what the man is thinking. His goals, his aspirations, anything that Hongjoong can learn just to find out who Kang Yeosang actually is. Instead, he glances back to Chan. 

“Yes, we’re ready.”

Chan smiles reassuringly and glances around the room. His eyes land on Wooyoung. With a gentle tilt of his head, he signals for the royal to come to him. Wooyoung obeys, if only to humor him, and untangles himself from his husband. Chan purses his lips. “You’re alright with San participating?” 

Wooyoung laughs in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly. “Of course. Who am I to limit his fun? And anyways…” He glances to where Seonghwa and Hongjoong sit awkwardly on the couch. “I would like to see where this goes without any distractions. I’ll keep a close eye on everyone.” Chan nods. 

“Stay beside me then. I need you to make sure everyone’s eyes remain closed. In between glamours, I will need you to lead the last one I finish into the hallway. Leave them with the other guards.” He looks around the group. “They’ll make sure no one opens their eyes or compromises the game.” The Asrai hums in response.

“Everyone, close your eyes please.” Each participant does as they are told. The last thing Hongjoong sees before everything goes black is the sharp ridge of Seonghwa’s nose. The fullness of his pink lips. The curve of his horns. The way he meets Hongjoong’s gaze with his own icy stare and offers him a fanged smile. Hongjoong squeezes his eyes shut tightly; pretending that his face does not flame with the deepest pink tones it can muster. Before he can adjust to the loss of the sense, he feels warm breath on the shell of his ear. 

“The tips of your ears are bright red, _Joongie_ .” The Phouka is quiet. Enough so that those around them cannot hear what is being said. However, it is also enough so that Hongjoong feels his breath catch in his throat. “It’s cute.” Seonghwa leans back, presumably taking his spot at the other end of the couch, but Hongjoong can still feel the fire of the other man pressing into him. _Fuck this guy for being attractive and for owning it._

Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably as he hears Chan move around the room slowly. One by one, he hears the soft footsteps of the others exit the room alongside Wooyoung. There is a brief pause while Chan waits for him to come back, but over the course of ten minutes, the entire thing repeats on a constant loop. Eventually, footsteps appear next to him and he assumes that Seonghwa is undergoing his glamouring. His warmth is suddenly gone from his side, followed by Wooyoung’s steps as the two presumably exit the room. 

This time, Chan does not wait to use his magic. Instead, the dull buzz of glamour settles over Hongjoong like sunlight. Chan gently urges him to stand and helps to navigate him to the doorway. Hongjoong feels the cold rush of the hallway’s atmosphere as the chill settles over his skin. Sehyoon’s chuckle emanates from somewhere down the hall. “You guys ready?” Hongjoong nods, but with his eyes still shut tightly, he has no way of knowing if anyone else does. A few scattered hums sound off from different individuals. Softly, he hears the padding of boots into the room and understands that the group is being shuffled and transferred. Following the sound and gentle touches that guide him, the lighting changes significantly as they pass through the doorway. Once again swathed in the golden light of the study’s lamps and torches, he manages to breathe. 

_“Open your eyes.”_ Despite knowing that it is Byeongkwan’s voice, despite knowing that it is a simple command that means absolutely no harm, the phrase sputters in his chest. It pounds against his temples like a tin on jail bars and screams to be noticed. Hongjoong does just that. He thinks of the dream from earlier that day. The way it fits like a lock and key with the prophecy spoken by Jongho. Apparently, the others notice something is amiss, as whoever is next to him lays a gentle hand on his arm. Hongjoong startles and comes face to face with a pointy-featured Nixie. 

His teeth are razor sharp and glass-like. What Hongjoong had assumed was a hand is actually webbed with translucent blue skin. Fins protrude from both sides of the creatures head, gradienting between blue and green with bioluminescent lights. It is a difficult detail to see in the study’s lighting, but one that startles the Avalonian nonetheless. Long portions of seaweed run down his back, past the short tunic that Chan has glamoured onto him, and pool at the base of his bare-feet. Hongjoong does not want to be rude, to make the man standing next to him feel self-conscious, but god, Nixies have never been a pleasure to look at. 

“So, what exactly are we supposed to do?” A high-voice crackles across the room. Something is perched on the bookcase behind where the guards and Wooyoung stand. It kicks its little legs frantically, as if searching for a way back down from the ledge, and frowns at the men below it. A pixie. A damn pixie that looks like a dandelion puff with a clover crown. How is he supposed to speak to a pixie of all things? He knows it is one of his new found friends- acquaintances?- but cannot shake the irritation that he knows Chan sparked on purpose. 

Another voice harrumphs next to Hongjoong, drawing his attention easily, but he cannot help snorting when the tall human comes into focus. His eyes are a light brown and his sandy hair shoulder length. The front pieces are pulled back into braids that connect behind his head with a simple ribbon. He wears Avalon’s hunter uniform, glittering with a dozen different silver and gold buttons, and his boots are calf height. As Hongjoong makes eye contact, the human’s mouth flounders open for a brief second before snapping shut. His cheeks redden slightly and he must sense it as he covers them with his palms; breaking eye contact. How horrid does Hongjoong look to get that kind of reaction? He stalks to the mirror and does a full twirl as he analyzes the details.

His red hair has been replaced with a light, caramel mullet. _A mullet?_ He has no wings or any distinguishing features of being Fae at all aside from the long, pointed ears that extend from the sides of his head. Each drips with small, resin-cast roses. A chain of aquamarine and gold threads its way through a number of small holes along the cartilage. For once, Hongjoong’s own jaw drops at the sight. Chan has given him the ethereal glow of an Aos Si. He wonders what Yeosang thinks, and spins to see if he can identify him, before his gaze lands on a iridescent creature leaning close to Jongho. The being is scantily clad, wearing only a white toga that cinches at the waist with a golden belt. Gladiator sandals twirl out his legs, all the way to the knee, and show off toned thighs. The image is almost funny, considering the creature is around four-feet tall. His skin glitters with every movement and even his hair reflects morning mist tones in long waves down his back. An Ashray. He stares not at Hongjoong, however, but at the sleeping figure on the couch. Undoubtedly, it is Yeosang. He feels his heart clench sympathetically for the man.

Hongjoong tears his eyes away from Yeosang’s small form. Heaviness weighs on his chest, threatening to smother him, and he searches for anything else to take his mind off of it. Instead, he spots a smoldering figure leaning against the wooden desk. Beneath his weight, the furniture smokes and splinters. Hongjoong screeches at the sight. He sprints over, batting at the creature, and spins on him quickly. 

“Why in the _hell_ are you on fire?” The Fae tries to shrug, narrowly missing the row of books behind him, and Hongjoong realizes that this is not his mistake. Instead, he turns to his favorite sorcerer. “Why the _hell_ is he on fire?” Chan laughs. 

“He’s a Salamander. You know, a fire elemental.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. Of course he is. Why would he not be?

Across the room, the Nixie perks up. “At least we have a few water inclined Fae here in case things go a little,” His webbed fingers come up to add a bit of jazzy-flair to his speech. “Haywire.” His inky black eyes flit from person to person as he analyzes the details. “I feel like they might.”

“Would you happen to know how to use those wonderful abilities, Nixie?” Wooyoung smirks. Though he does not outwardly show it, Hongjoong senses the Asrai’s bitterness. Between him and Donghun, there was never a need for another aquatic Fae to run Hongjoong’s life. Suddenly, there are four in the same room. From above him, the Pixie barks out a shrieking laugh. Of course, it’s San. No one else would find Wooyoung’s irritation quite so amusing. 

Narrowing it down, the leaves him with Mingi, Seonghwa, and Yunho, to identify correctly. As the thought comes to his mind, the Salamander bumps into one of the torches clumsily, knocking it onto the ground. The Nixie runs to assist him, blubbering something about the fire spreading quickly, before Junhee interrupts them. 

“The flames cannot hurt you. They’re powered by magical energy.” The two Fae spin to face him. “Just scoop it back into the goblet on top of the torch. They probably do not appreciate being on the dirty floor.” His boots scuff the area rug in the center of the room with half-hearted disgust. “Who knows the last time this place was cleaned.” Hongjoong watches as the two bumbling dorks lift the flames back into their place. The Avalonian solidifies it in his mind: the Nixie has to be Mingi while the Salamander is Yunho. Which just leaves Seonghwa...the human. Hongjoong’s mind involuntarily brings up the image of Seonghwa’s blushing expression. Beating it away with a stick, he locks eyes with the very same individual. Before either can speak, however, San is fluttering down from his place on the bookshelf to use the coffee table as a stage. 

“I’ve got it all figured out!” He exclaims, small hands coming to rest on his hips. “Have you guys?” Hongjoong nods slowly and looks around the room to see everyone but the Salamander doing the same. “Need more time?” 

“I’ll figure it out as we go.” The fire elemental grins back. Hongjoong wants to interject, to say that everyone needs a bit longer, but instead he lets San take the reins. For once, he wants nothing more than to just sit in the passenger seat. “Are we just going to write down our answers and have Chan tell us who’s right?” Knowing better than to answer, Hongjoong looks to Chan. The changeling shrugs.

“Does that work for all of you?” The decision is somehow unanimous and the quills and paper are doled out. Even as the group works quietly, Hongjoong’s heart hammering away wildly in his chest, he cannot help but wonder if he is making a huge mistake. Allowing a game to decide their fate seems bizarre. Letting a Banshee that just predicted thirteen deaths sleep off his scream-coma is not something he would have done in the past. Or possibly even the present. Yet, there the man is. Hongjoong pulls himself from the thoughts. Quickly, he scribbles his answers onto the parchment. 

_“Salamander- Yunho. Human- Seonghwa. Ashray- Yeosang. Nixie- Mingi. Pixie- San.”_ He writes in swirling, black cursive. The ink, too watery, feathers at the edges as Hongjoong watches it dry. Even as he folds the paper and passes it to Chan, he wonders what he is actually doing. The human accepts the sheet gently and waits for the other five to pass theirs in. The ordeal only takes seven minutes, but the soon-to-be king feels like the sand of time has reduced to dropping only a single grain per minute. In his mind, he pounds on an imaginary hourglass, begging to break free. Chan clears his throat only moments after the last person, Yeosang, turns in his sheet. 

“After looking over them a few times I can honestly say...only one of you managed to pinpoint everyone.” Hongjoong’s breathing halts. If he was the only person to have guessed correctly, did that mean there was no winner? Before he can speak, however, Chan drops the glamours. “Seonghwa, congratulations.” So much for Hongjoong being especially talented with his observations.

The Phouka stares between Chan and Hongjoong, his face blank and absolutely shell shocked. To the side, Mingi stands where the Salamander once knelt. Meaning...he glances to the Nixie’s most recent location, only to lay his eyes on Yunho. _Fuck_. He had switched them. San, who was quite obviously the Pixie, pouts from where he now sits on the table. 

“Well, who lost?” His voice is no longer squeaky. Instead, it has all the salt spray of the ocean. Wooyoung must be rubbing off on him. Chan simply points at the fox, whose eyes widen comically, and his mouth makes a small ‘o’. “You’re lying!” 

“You mixed up everyone. I cannot imagine how you did that.” 

San mumbles something about the difficulty of the challenge while scooting closer to his husband’s pant leg. His fingers wrap around the fabric and pull him closer until Wooyoung crashes into the table as well. It is nothing short of obnoxiously loud and, as though by magic, the Banshee on the couch shoots into a sitting position. 

“What the hell?” Jongho’s focus flickers around the room. Frantically searching for something, someone, familiar. Brown eyes wander over Hongjoong as though he is nothing more than a bug on the wall. They do, however, lock onto the Aos Si standing closeby. “Yeo?” His expression softens as the other man nods. “What are we doing here?”

Hongjoong is not sure whether or not he should interrupt. However, for their safety, getting to the bottom of the prophecy would be the best thing the group could currently do. He presses forward, kneeling before the Banshee, and drawing the attention of the room.

“Glad you could join us, Prince Jongho of Neafri. We need your help.” The Fae’s eyes grow large. Hongjoong observes the way his chest rises and falls faster than before. “I am Prince Hongjoong of Avalon and I-”

“I know.” The Banshee speaks slowly, his voice difficult to pinpoint. It wavers as though afraid, but has a certain level of confidence that cannot be stripped away. “I’ve watched you die at least one hundred times, your majesty. That’s why I came to this revel.”

The guards bristle around the room. Junhee makes to lift Hongjoong out of the way, to push him to safety behind the knight line, but Seonghwa opens his mouth first; always the catalyst. The way he speaks is calculated, as though a single slip up with expedite the prophecy, “To harm the prince?” Jongho shakes his head violently. The color drains from his face.

“Of course not. I came to warn you, all of you, that I’ve lived through nightmare after nightmare. I’ve tried to save every one of us in this room a dozen different ways. Nothing changes.” The Banshee fidgets with the hem of his overcoat, bringing Hongjoong to the mind of Yeosang, and pulls at a loose thread. “I know where King Maddox is. I have seen him in every vision and there is one thing that stays the same each time.”

“Maddox?” Hongjoong’s voice is soft. Tendrils of his whisper linger in the air. They dance as though the world is not closing in on them. As though the world is not smothering everything Hongjoong holds dear. “Maddox is alive?”

Jongho grimaces. His head bobs up and down. _Yes_. Before Hongjoong can cheer, or smile, or even process the information, Jongho’s brown eyes meet his once more. “In every vision, Maddox returns. And with him, he brings an army.” 

“An army is good! We can use more fighters-”

“No, your Highness. He brings an army clothed in black and white to the doorstep of Avalon.” Jongho pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Prince Hongjoong, on the night of your coronation, your brother returns to Avalon. By his side will be a human, an assassin, and he will be the one to rip your head from your shoulders. You serve as a warning to the rest of the Fae.”

Seonghwa, his brow furrowed in horror, speaks softly. “A warning of what?”

“Human revenge. For thousands of years of stealing their men, women, and children.”

Mingi scoffs. “ _Oh is that all?_ I cannot say we do not deserve it, if that is the case.” Hongjoong hopes for nothing more than for Mingi to keep that same sense of humor until the end and beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, loves! Thanks for reading this chonky boy. I appreciate that you are!! I have so much fun writing this fic. I'm now officially out of backlogs, meaning it will probably be a few days until I drop the new chapter. Expect Tuesday at the latest. My 21st birthday is on Saturday (March 14th), so I'm not sure how much I will be able to write this weekend! 
> 
> If you have any hottakes, criticism, or just wanna say hi, please leave a comment! I adore my readers and hearing what you have to say is the best.
> 
> Find me on Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji  
> (I love friends and would adore more mutuals that like ATEEZ!)
> 
> Cheers!


	4. I Heard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! This chapter is pretty short and it's a good bit of filler. I thought you guys could use a break after last week's chonky boy. There is a little bit of -slight- NSFW stuff towards the end, but it's nothing to far outside of the PG-13 range.

> _ “ _ _ Science is eerie when you're still around. _
> 
> _ Killing your body cos they found you out. _
> 
> _ Calling the shots and I'm falling down. _
> 
> _ Look at the dust explode on the ground.” _
> 
> **_I Heard_ ** _ \- Young Fathers _
> 
> * * *

“How much of it have you seen, Prince Jongho?” Yunho’s voice is gentle, far from the boiling rage that Hongjoong feels when he thinks of his brother as anything other than just that. “I had no idea that Banshee’s saw more than death.” The Banshee finally pulls his hands away from his eyes. Behind them, the skin of his flesh glistens damply. His cheeks are tinted with rosy splotches as Yeosang crosses the space and throws his arms around him. Hongjoong catches the way Jongho’s engagement ring flickers in the light. It speaks promises and holds its tongue when asked for secrets.

Jongho breathes deeply, his shoulders rising shakily under Yeosang’s weight, as he runs a hand absentmindedly through the other man’s hair. He looks to Yunho, his eyes still brimming with unshed tears, and shakes his head softly. “You are correct. We cannot predict the future.” He sighs. “God, we can only  _ sense  _ when someone is walking the line of life and death. It’s like reading an expiration date. You know it’s coming

This, however, was different. It was like seeing photo after photo tumble through the air like a stop motion. Each one flashing by long enough to show me the outcomes. I only know why your brother is coming back,” Jongho looks to Hongjoong as he speaks. “Because it was like he wanted me to know. At least, something did. A man’s voice narrated each photo.” His voice shakes and Yeosang pulls him closer. His own hand tangling with the man’s bangs long enough to push them out of the Banshee’s eyes. “He told me your names. Your kingdoms. He told me to ‘open my eyes’.”

“And that is when you saw me?” Seonghwa speaks deeply. His eyes do not leave the interesting spot he seems to have found on the floor next to Hongjoong’s knee. To be frank, Hongjoong has no idea when the man moved to sit beside them. But almost on instinct, he finds his own fingers inching toward the Phouka’s until they brush. Once, then a second time, before the other man sets his palm on top of Hongjoong’s.  _ Were Seonghwa’s hands always that large? _

“Yes,” Jongho affirms. “It was as though I was operating on autopilot through the majority of the revel until I saw you. I could not control it, and for that I apologize, Prince Seonghwa.” The prince’s hand closes around Hongjoong’s. It is gentle at first, but then tightens as Hongjoong feels the other man begin to shake. Seonghwa only responds to Jongho with a soft ‘hmph’ and says nothing following. 

Maybe, it is the way his heart pounds in his chest like a caged bird wanting nothing more than to soar again. Or the buzz of magic that flickers through the air as Chan and the other guards travel back to the hallway for what he softly states as another ‘strategy meeting’. As though there is a way to plan for any of this. Before Junhee gets too far out of earshot, Hongjoong chooses to take initiative in the only way he can. 

“Jun!” The man turns quickly and bows low on instinct. “I want you to prepare the rest of the royal guard. Create a patrol for Avalonian boundaries that will rotate in four hour shifts.” The music of the revel drives a certain icy blade into his chest. He knows that they must act fast to cover all bases. According to Jongho, the main event will not occur until Hongjoong’s coronation. And for once, Hongjoong is thankful to be a bastard of his nation. The coronation cannot occur until he is bound to a royal. Seonghwa squeezes his hand again. Possibly to spur his commands on, or to comfort him. Would that be too far out of the realm of reality? “Do not let the attendees know there is anything amiss. Drawing attention to ourselves right now might alert whatever forces my brother-” He frowns. The term burns his throat like the first bite of a crisp, green apple. “It might alert whatever forces  _ Maddox  _ has established.”

Jun nods carefully. “Close the door behind us, Joong. We will knock if we need anything else.” As he goes to leave, he turns to the almost-king once more. “And Hongjoong?” The two lock eyes, a silent spark passing between them, as Jun gives him a two-fingered salute. “Don’t lose your head.” The taller Elf exits the room quickly, avoiding all of Hongjoong’s well-timed insults. ‘ _ That is the goal, asshole,’  _ he thinks. 

“The war does not occur until after your coronation…” Wooyoung mumbles, looking into the middle distance. His blank gaze pulls to Hongjoong’s face slowly, as though his thoughts are drifting a mile-a-minute and it is difficult to keep up. He would not put it past his dearest friend to have an overlapping scatter board of thoughts pinned somewhere within his brain. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He moves quickly, already standing behind Hongjoong before the Elf can process what he said. 

“Go ahead?” Hongjoong waits for the Asrai to speak, frowning as the silence grows longer. Wooyoung sighs in exasperation. His head cocks to the side dramatically, motioning for the two to move in the direction of the bathroom.  _ Oh, privately.  _ “Right, sorry.” Boots squeaking on the hardwood floor, he drags himself from the ground. Seonghwa makes a quiet noise under his breath as Hongjoong pulls his hand from beneath the Phouka’s. The Elf finds himself missing the warmth almost immediately, but forces his legs to move and continue across the room. 

Even before Wooyoung closes the door, Hongjoong already bristles with irritation. The Asrai leans against the porcelain sink as the latch clicks into place. “So, you’re probably wondering why I called you here…” Hongjoong pretends to tear at his hair. His fingers tug at the skin of the bridge of his nose. 

“Wooyoung, please just explain.”

The Asrai laughs halfheartedly. It is a change in pace from his usual antics. The air between them settles with the gentle wafting scent of lavender. Hongjoong thinks back to earlier that day, when he found his friend bathing, and is hit with nostalgia. How could so much have happened within only a matter of hours? He looks to the wooden clock that ticks by slowly on the wall. Its face tells him it is approximately three in the morning. It was only ten hours earlier than he was prepping for the extravaganza. One he could not even enjoy to the fullest. Hongjoong draws his attention back to his friend, whose fingers toy with the dangling diamond strand that swings from his ear. White strands of his hair get caught in it with every fidgeting move, but the Elf knows better than to stop the man.

“Why don’t you just put off getting married?” Wooyoung hardly meets his eye. “If you do not form a bond, you cannot take the throne. And if you cannot take the throne then…” He drifts off, his voice filtering out like the last rainstorm before winter. “It would save you a lot of trouble.”

Hongjoong sighs, his hair tumbling into his eyes as he leans forward to press his forehead to the wall beside him. The thought crossed his mind. However, the reasonable portion of his mind was often drowned out by his father’s voice. “My kingdom needs me, Woo.” He feels the Asrai’s arms wrap around his shoulders before he hears the Fae move. “I cannot abandon them. Not if the threat is someone they once followed.” His voice is followed by a gentle sob; not of his own.

“That’s what I thought you would say, you stupid, dutiful prince.” Wooyoung’s breath is hot as he mumbles into Hongjoong’s hair. He feels a droplet of wet roll down the back of his neck followed by Wooyoung pushing his damp cheek into the bare skin of his throat. Hongjoong does not dare turn around. Does not dare face his friend’s sorrowful expression. As the two slide onto the bathroom tile, Hongjoong does not move. He cries, silently, and Wooyoung runs his long fingers through the strands at the base of his neck. He curls onto his side and his friend falls with him; holding tightly as though they may drift apart in the current of life. “You could do a lot worse than that dreary Phouka prince, you know. He’s pretty.”

“You seemed to hate him.”

Wooyoung scoffs quietly. Hongjoong is forced to only wonder what the other man is thinking. He does not receive a response and the two fall into a passable silence. Even as he holds onto the Asrai for dear life, he feels as though something is missing. When they finally break apart, and Honjoong looks at the clock, it has been eleven minutes. Wooyoung does not turn towards him as he dries his tears on the hem of his shirt. Only as Hongjoong pushes himself into a standing position does he finally glance at his friend’s tear-stained face. Immediately, he finds the other man staring back at him. He lets out a cackling laugh, suffocated slightly by the soreness of his throat, and pushes Hongjoong playfully. 

“You look like shit.” They both speak at the same time. Eyes red and wide, the two burst into hysterics. It’s not long until a knock sounds out against the door and Mingi’s deep voice drifts through. 

“Are you two alright in there?” It’s cautious. Enough so that Hongjoong watches Wooyoung go through a series of emotions before landing on something mischievous. He taps back and the two listen to the Cat Sith screech. Wooyoung cackles again, throwing open the door, and taking in the full group of Fae standing on the other side. “Damn, you do look like shit. Also, how does your private study have such a glorious bathroom?” Mingi’s open-mouthed expression gazes back at Hongjoong. 

The Elf cracks a grin. He probably has snot running from his nose and his hair must look like a bird’s nest. For once, though, he does not seem to care about his appearance. Instead, his body screams for him to find a place to rest. Glancing at the group around him, he only shrugs. “Any complaints about retiring for the night?” 

Yunho is the first to break into a smile. His brilliant fangs glitter in the dim lighting. “Perhaps a sleepover is in order?” He looks around the room, silently counting the men, before nodding to himself. “We could do four and four in different rooms? Or possibly two and two, if you have that kind of space to space, Prince Hongjoong.” 

“We do.” Hongjoong says. “I have plenty of spare rooms in this hall alone. Preferably, I would like to keep everyone in one general area, if that is alright with you all.” He looks around the group to those nodding in agreement. “I know a few of you arrived with family, however, and each of you have personal belongings in accommodations elsewhere. If you would like for them to, the guards can take you to those rooms to pick up what you might need. I would bring whatever you have, if I am being honest, as we do not know the severity of our situation just yet.”

Seonghwa interrupts suddenly, “I believe we know the severity, your highness. We simply do not know the exact timeline. For all we know,” His icy gaze drifts Jongho, who stands hand-in-hand with Yeosang. “There may be unforeseen issues even prior to the coronation. We best approach this together and not stray far from each other, as you have already said.” The group hums quietly. Yunho looks at the door to the hall, his tail wagging to the soft rumbling of the outdoor orchestra. 

“I would like to let my mother and Gunho know that I am alright.” He speaks gently, but his words have a positive uplift to them. “They’re most certainly back in our rooms by now. I cannot imagine either being much for the life of the party.” Hongjoong chuckles. 

“Then, how about you and Mingi room together? Have one of the guards go with you.” He glances between the two Fae. “I trust that you will not get into much trouble?” The men laugh loudly, both giving him their own variation of a blinding smile, before stepping towards the exit. Before they can reach it, however, Hongjoong calls out. “Oh and your majesties?” They turn to face him, eyes wide with comical confusion. “Please, for all things holy, watch your tails. This castle is filled to the brim with things, and people, that tend to be quite breakable.” They nod fervently and push the wooden door open with a shove.

“As for everyone else, you’re not limited by family. You are free to go to your accommodations to retrieve what you need, but I ask kindly that you travel in pairs. I also insist that you take a member of the guard.” It does not take long before four of the remaining six men disappear. Jongho travels with Yeosang and San practically drags Wooyoung by the sleeve. It leaves Seonghwa staring expectantly in Hongjoong’s direction. 

Now that they are alone, the thought of the earlier game hits Hongjoong with an icy chill. Before him stands the winner of his stupid challenge. The man that has surpassed two of three portions of the competition. And honestly, the only remaining contender who does not seem to be tied to someone else. Seonghwa’s face shows a similar vein of recognition. Suddenly, it’s as though Hongjoong is a schoolboy again. His heart pounds against his chest loud enough that he is certain the other man can hear it. Seonghwa takes a step forward, as though he is preparing to say something groundbreaking, as the sound of boots on tile shuffles into the room. Hongjoong spins like a Cat Sith who was caught licking from the fresh cream pot. Junhee and Donghun stand in the doorway with unreadable expressions. San must have left the door open.

“We were-” Jun waves Hongjoong’s sputtered excuse off. 

The way the guard speaks, the Avalonian prince already knows he will not be hearing the end of it in the future. “Oh, do not worry, sire.” His eyes twinkle obnoxiously. “You two have  _ a lot _ of bonding to do. However, we were wondering if Prince Seonghwa would like us to accompany him to his chambers. Of course, you will have to attend too, Joong.” Beside him, Seonghwa seems to release the tension in his shoulders. 

“I would appreciate the company. Thank you.” He speaks carefully. Blue eyes dancing between the two royal guards, the Phouka radiates apprehension. Since the moment the two met at the revel, he has been nothing short of courteous. Perhaps short-tempered, but the breath puffs of frustration have a way of finding themselves directed towards Wooyoung than anyone else. As though pulling open a leather bound book in his mind, Hongjoong makes a note to ask one of the two their connection. Seonghwa’s hands are folded across his stomach as he looks to Hongjoong. His eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when the other man focuses on him. 

Hongjoong cannot help but smile toothily back. It hits him like a whirlwind. Thoughts of a life beyond this one. A life where thousands listen to his every word, not because he is their king, but because he acts as their inspiration. Where he stands beside this man, their fingers intertwined, and bow before a crowd. Thoughts of a life where the Phouka smiles brightly, his hands placed tenderly on Hongjoong’s waist, and they sway to the melody of some far off song in a yellow, checkered kitchen. Where sunflowers bloom year round and winter never threatens to rip apple blossoms from their branches. He sees a world that he could never imagine and a family. The eight royals sitting around a full dinner table, laughing playfully, as they eat. He sees love. 

The scene crashes around him and he is drawn back to the study. In the flickering golden light, Seonghwa’s horns glisten like black ice. Concern washes over his features, briefly, before filtering into something closed-off. The other man reaches a tender palm towards his cheek, brushing the spattering of freckles that covers his jawline. His head tilts, eyes locked onto Hongjoong’s own, as he opens his mouth. 

“Are you alright, Hongjoong?” He speaks with no formalities. Hongjoong nods, his gaze not breaking from the other’s, and feels the gentle buzz of magic titter through the air. Jun stands to his side, his face coated with a similar look of concern, and shakes his head. “What happened?”

Hongjoong can only shake his head. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”  _ It was beautiful.  _ “I must have been daydreaming.” _ And, God, you were beautiful. _ The response does not seem to please either man in his space. Even Donghun wears a worrisome expression. “Promise, I am alright, tired, but alright.” He leaves the room without saying much else, brushing past the Selkie in the doorway. He hears Junhee grumble under his breath and a slight chuckle from Seonghwa, but does not turn back as the group tails him down the long corridor. 

Hongjoong waits at the corner. He knows better than to push too far ahead of his guards. Even if he had tried, Donghun would have been able to out stride him in moments. _ Cursed endurance training. _ The knights pass by him, casting a knowing glance, before leaving him nearly twenty paces in the dust. Seonghwa, apparently not made for the brisk walking pace the group had set, huffs quietly as he catches up. The Phouka’s wings twitch as though desperate to take flight.

“Low stamina for a prince?” The words tumble from Hongjoong’s mouth without him realizing it. Seonghwa turns to him, his eyes the size of dinner plates, and frowns. His chest rises and falls heavily. 

The black-haired man runs a hand through his strands. His eyes narrow and Hongjoong almost thinks he is going to stay silent until– “I’ll have you know, many have told me my stamina is quite up to par.” The Phouka is suddenly much closer to him than he was before, his body pressed flush against Hongjoong’s as his voice tickles the Avalonian’s cheek. Seonghwa pulls back quickly. Before Hongjoong can look at his expression, he turns on his heel and follows the guards. His boots echo on the stone floor, leaving a flabbergasted Hongjoong in the dust. He feels the heat burn his cheeks instantly and scurries to catch up with the group. 

Every step down the hall had left the crown prince with more questions. Seonghwa chatted with the group idly, as though he had not just publicly embarrassed Hongjoong yet again. His hands gesture slowly, his voice low and the Elf can imagine golden foliage sprouting from his tongue. His head has buzzed dully since the event. Jun looks back periodically. It is obvious that he is upset Hongjoong lingers steps behind them. Even as Donghun laughs, deeply engrossed in conversation with the animated Phouka, the Elven guard’s gaze is hard to shake. Before long, Junhee is sidling up to his prince. A long arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him close, as Jun keeps his voice low.

“Are you going to tell me why you sulk,” He prods at Hongjoong’s side with a swift jab. “Or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” Hongjoong yelps as the other pinches his cheek. 

“Ow!” He bats the man’s hands away, his face throbbing with the sudden attack, and glares back. “Mingi and Yunho are right. You bully me.” He sighs as the man shows no sign of backing down. “Relationship troubles, if you must know.” He tries to walk ahead of the other Elf, but Jun grabs his wrist softly, pulling him back in step.

The guard’s voice is low, but his actions are not inconspicuous. If anything, they will draw suspicion easier this way. “You,” Jun points a long finger in his face. “Do not have a relationship. What is the truth, little prince?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes, his hand pushing Jun’s finger out of his face. 

“And since when,” Hongjoong whispers. “Can Fae lie, Junhee?” The guard gasps.

“Don’t tell me…” The man’s focus draws to Seonghwa’s slim form. “You sly, sly dog. Is he the one?” Hongjoong shushes him quickly. Evidently, the noise draws the other members of their party into the conversation. Donghun stops in the center of the hall. His hands positioned over his hips.

“Telling secrets?” The Selkie grunts. Seonghwa chuckles to the side. A pale hand covers his mouth timidly as he stares between the three men. How dare someone who speaks in such a sultry manner giggle as though he is the bell of the ball. Hongjoong glowers at the Fae before him before pushing back down the hall again. 

“Did I strike a cord, Joongie?” Jun’s voice drifts after him.

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time the group reconvenes and sends each member of the eight royals off to their paired accommodations, Hongjoong feels as though his limbs will collapse beneath him. Red hot fire burns through his veins; begging for a soak in his tub or the plush, downy caress of his silken bedsheets. It’s only when he and Seonghwa say goodnight to the guards, who insist on doing vigilant rounds for the length of the royals’ stays, that Hongjoong realizes his one faux-pas. His bed is large, of course, but it is the only one in the room. As he looks to Seonghwa, the man appears almost crestfallen. 

Hongjoong shrugs. “I do not suppose you would mind sharing my bed, Prince Seonghwa?” Suddenly, a wicked comment flitters through his mind. Before he can stop himself, he speaks. “Although, tonight will not be one for you to prove your boundless stamina. I feel we would both be more comfortable in the same bed than have one of us sleep on the couch.” Seonghwa has the decency, this time, to blush profusely. He does nothing more than nod. The simple action surprises Hongjoong. It was not that the man assumed the Phouka would jump his bones the moment he said something lewd, but the idea that the Unseelie Fae seemed more embarrassed than anything else, despite Hongjoong only turning his own words against him. “Right then,” Hongjoong’s dry mouth makes it difficult to piece words together. “You can have the bathroom first. I’ll just change out here.”

Seonghwa hums quickly. He sets a small satchel onto the right side of the bed, the one closest to the door, and begins to riffle through it. The atmosphere threatens to punch Hongjoong in the chest as he focuses on taking one step after another to his wardrobe. As he pulls out a human band T-shirt Chan brought him, much too large but impossibly comfortable, he hears the bathroom door click shut. It’s as though all of the air has finally returned to the room. Hongjoong lets the tension in his shoulders drop. His hands scrub at his face as he works to feel something, anything, that isn’t the sheer weight of anxiety and desire to impress the man he has been locked into the night with. Hongjoong strips from his tight pants and pulls on a looser fitting set of flannel bottoms. His tail wraps tightly around his left leg, another unseen weight, and Hongjoong fights the urge to drop the glamour that hides it from accidental observation. It is a great risk to sleep in the same bed as the very person who cannot, under any circumstance, learn of the appendage’s existence just yet. It’s only when he has pulled off his top that he hears the bathroom door creak open. 

“Joong?” His heart skips as Seonghwa uses the nickname. He must have caught on to the others using it, but the way it comes out of the man’s mouth is like a stunning harmony. Hongjoong turns around, shirt forgotten in a cotton pile on the floor. Seonghwa’s gaze is suddenly scalding. It drives down his body, pausing on the sharp ‘V’ of Hongjoong’s hips, and then crawls back up to meet his eyes. The ever-present flush over Hongjoong’s skin appears like flame to a match. The Phouka has the audacity to give him a sharp-toothed smirk.  _ Where did that shy bastard go?  _ Seonghwa speaks before Hongjoong can give himself an aneurysm. “Do you happen to have a spare washcloth? I seem to have forgotten mine in Grenumar.” 

Hongjoong nods wordlessly. Slowly he walks to the cabinet room between his own bed-space and the bathroom. He pulls a small, terry-cloth square from the shelf and turns to hand it to the other man. However, the Phouka seems to have other ideas. Suddenly, Hongjoong is pushed against the shelving unit. Seonghwa’s arms hold him steady between them. He stares down at the elf, a tender, but heated expression crossing his face. “Can I…” He speaks deeply, the cinnamon sugar coating on his words drips off like molten lava. “God, Prince Hongjoong, can I kiss you?”

Hongjoong sputters. His hard pounding in his chest, he chases the glowing embers pulsing through his veins with a wooden broom. It does nothing more than spark the heat-rocks into full-blown flames. “Yes, but only if you stop calling me ‘prince’.” He can hardly get the snide remark out before Seonghwa’s lips are pushing against his own. 

It’s different than kissing the stable hand. Back then, there was the fear of getting caught. The childish innocence of not knowing what would one day befall onto Hongjoong’s shoulders. It was kissing in the hay just to say that he had. This was slow, achingly, as Seonghwa’s mouth scalds his own. Their lips move as one. His teeth pulling sharply along Hongjoong’s and the little noise the Elf makes in the back of his throat. The wet, heat of his tongue asking for permission to move further into Seonghwa’s mouth and the drag of the other’s canines along his tongue. He tastes like lemon and char. As Seonghwa pulls away to mouth at the bare skin of Hongjoong’s shoulder, he cannot help but moan gently. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Seonghwa chuckles, his fangs dragging along the soft skin of Hongjoong’s throat, and he plants a single kiss to the base of his jaw. Hongjoong threads his hands through the other man’s inky black hair. He tugs him until Seonghwa’s lips are back on his own. Time passes like hot sand through an hourglass. It is not until Hongjoong turns his head slightly, brushing off the other’s lazy kisses, that he realizes what they have done. He expects himself to feel remorse, but is instead surprised when none comes. Seonghwa places a final kiss on Hongjoong’s cheek.

“You have no idea how long I have wished to do that,  _ Hongjoong _ .”

The Elf laughs. Seonghwa looks absolutely wrecked. His hair sticks up at various angles and his cheeks are flushed with the most stunning shade of sunset pink. Hongjoong leans forward to press his lips against the tint for a brief second. “You have known me for less than twenty-four hours, Hwa.” The nickname slips out as he mumbles against the Phouka’s warm skin. He pulls back in a flustered panic, but Seonghwa smiles brilliantly at him. _ He likes the nickname? Does he have a thing for pet names? _

“You would not remember, but we met once. Our fathers declared a truce with each other, entering us into the Pact of Ancients.” He stares fondly at Hongjoong. “I’ll tell you more, but truly, I need to wash my face.” As he disentangles himself from Hongjoong’s grasp, he holds up the washcloth Hongjoong retrieved for him. “Thank you. I probably should have seen them when I came in.” Hongjoong can only nod as the other wanders back into the bathroom and latches the door. 

Perhaps it is not in his best interest to walk directly to the bed after throwing on his discarded t-shirt. Nor is it to flop onto it like a dead fish and allow himself to be consumed by the gentle scent of lavender, sea-salt, and sweat. He barely registers the thought of, “When did Wooyoung and San have time to have sex on his bed?” as he drifts into a deep sleep.  _ Sorry, Hwa _ .

✧ ✧ ✧

_ “Your son seems to have quite the interest in my Hongjoong, your majesty.” Hongjoong’s father’s voice filters through the conference hall. It makes him bask in the sunlight that once came with his father reading them bedtime stories. The way ivy danced in the breeze of sunshower. He was the king of Avalon. Power unbridled and a master of bloodbaths, but he was the sun. That was the father he remembered.  _

_ Across the table sits a man in dark, commanding clothing. "He has always loved things that are tinier than him." His hair is pitch black and accompanied by winding ram’s horns, bridled with dangling gemstones and metal caps. Icy, aqua eyes melt under the sunlight. He watches fondly as two children, no more than five, move wooden horses along the fake castle structure that Hongjoong’s mother had built for him. A young Seonghwa holds the left pinky finger of Hongjoong’s small hand with his own. They play as though the world cannot hurt them. As though time will not know them.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! I'll be back later this week with another update. Expect things to get spicier.   
> As always, I love all feedback I get! Feel free to reach out to me if you have any comments, suggestions, or even just want a friend.
> 
> Find me on Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji  
> (I adore friends and making new mutuals!)
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> \- Please stay safe, everyone. Life is chaotic right now. Remember, while you deserve only the best and happiest moments, some things are inevitable. Never let the world burn the memories you have made and continue to build your best future every day.


	5. Sudden Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is NSFW! There are symbols to denote where one can stop reading and resume reading if you chose to skip the NSFW bits. However, the plot in this chapter is also very important for the next few. If anything, at least read the final section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☾ ☾ ☾ ☀ - Shows where NSFW begins. (It is left aligned.)  
> ☀ ☽ ☽ ☽ - Shows where NSFW ends. If skipping the NSFW section, at least read after these markings. (It is right aligned.)

> _“I wanted him to kiss me how._
> 
> _With open mouth and open mouth._
> 
> _We keep our distance now. I wanna feel his hands go down._
> 
> _Take the elephant by the hand and hold it._
> 
> _It's cruel to tame a thing that don't know its strength._
> 
> _But better to walk beside it. Mm, than underneath._
> 
> _My kind companion. Softens stone. My gentle giant. Painful reminder.”_

_**Sudden Desire** \- Hayley Williams _

* * *

_The bed is warm._ The first thing Hongjoong notices when his eyes open to the tender morning light filtering through the stained glass window is that the right side of his bed is warm. Ice races through his veins, breath catching in this throat, as he is careful to move only slightly. Beside him, a dark-haired man lays on his stomach, face buried in this pillow, and snores softly. His horns peek out from beneath the comforter he has seemingly burrowed beneath. _Seonghwa_. 

The night’s events pass through Hongjoong’s mind feverishly. The Banshee’s screams, the beginning of the competition, the pounding harmonies of the revel, and the press of soft lips against his own. He holds back a quiet gasp as his fingers touch his lower lip; the memory of Seonghwa’s fangs pulling against his soft flesh. Lemon and char. Fire and skin. Hongjoong shivers at the memory, his eyes falling shut, and draws in a deep breath. He does not dare move a muscle. Partially out of respect for the sleeping Phouka, but more so to avoid discussing the night. He could act as though he was sleeping. Pretend that he had not already opened his eyes and let Seonghwa get up to possibly bathe or carry out a morning routine. Maybe, it would not be wrong to sneak another peak. As he turns his head to the side and cracks his gaze, aqua eyes peer back. Hongjoong gasps.

The Phouka grins. One cheek pressed against the pillow, Hongjoong can see the sheet creases along his visible cheek. His black hair fans out beneath his right side, a stark contrast to the yellow silk, and pieces stick up wildly. The staff had brought him silk sheets to prevent messy hair and wrinkles. Yet somehow, the man before him has managed to defy all odds. Hongjoong cannot help but laugh out loud. Seonghwa sits up, panic rippling across his features, and leans over the Elf. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong manages to wheeze. “‘M fine. You just look silly.” The face looming above him blinks owlishly. Once. Then, twice. Suddenly, fingers pinch at Hongjoong’s cheeks gently. 

“Who looks silly now?” Seonghwa’s voice is deep and sultry. He lets go of the other man's cheeks. His eyes are half-lidded as he leans forward to press a chaste kiss against Hongjoong’s lips. The action is surprising, but not unwelcome. As he pulls back and tries to sit up, the Elf reaches behind his head to pull him back in for something more heated. Seonghwa makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and Hongjoong’s lips work against him. He runs his tongue along the seam, asking for permission, and the other man gives in.

Tugging Seonghwa until his back hits the bed, Hongjoong flips the two of them. His thighs straddle the Phouka’s and he wrestles the man’s wrists into his grasp. Pinning them above his head, he breaks the kiss to nip at the hollow of Seonghwa’s collar bone. The Fae shivers delightfully as a gasp leaves his throat. Hongjoong bites him gently, licking the space after, and brings his lips back to the other man’s. Seonghwa pants into his mouth, the overpowering taste of lemon flooding his senses, and Hongjoong cannot stop himself from moaning quietly. Lazily, the two work against each other, but operate in operatic harmony. It is not until Hongjoong presses a quick kiss on the Phouka’s bruised lips that he feels the warm weight of Seonghwa’s palms on his bare skin. At some point, the man must have wiggled free of his grasp and slid them beneath the cotton t-shirt. His own hands, he realizes, have become otherwise occupied. One holds him up so that he hovers just slightly above Seonghwa. The other, however, is threaded tightly into the man’s black strands. Absentmindedly, he brushes his thumb along the base of one horn, relishing in the way it makes the Phouka shudder beneath him. _Interesting_. 

“Good morning to you, too.” Hongjoong’s voice is breathless. Windchimes in the summer breeze. Tinny, but not so obtrusive that he wishes he had not spoken. So, this was what it meant to kiss like you meant it. To lose control. Below him, Seonghwa smiles softly, turning the Elf’s insides to mush. 

“Mhm.” Seonghwa draws his hands from Hongjoong’s stomach. Immediately, he misses the warmth of his palms pressed against his fiery skin. The Phouka winds his arms around Hongjoong’s neck, pulling him close enough to plant a tender kiss on his forehead, before pushing him back just enough to meet his eyes. “Good morning.” His energy is beautiful. Sunny and intoxicating, Hongjoong desperately tumbles after it like a newborn fawn. “You fell asleep without me.”

Hongjoong snorts as the memory comes back to him. He had collapsed onto the mattress and immediately drifted off. “Sorry about that.” He fiddles with a strand of the other Fae’s hair that tickles his fingers. “It was a long day; for everyone involved, of course. I was not sure if it was ever going to end.” Seonghwa chuckles, his pink cheeks standing out against the pale expanse of his skin. “I dreamt of something familiar, however, would you care to hear it?”

Seonghwa hums, a thumb tracing Hongjoong’s jawline. “I would.” Hongjoong could imagine the man singing a lullaby to a small, Fae. He could imagine his deep voice soothing a child as they cry over a skinned knee. He feels his own cheeks heat at the domestic imagery and coughs to clear the embarrassment. _Get a hold of yourself._

“We were children. Playing cavalry with wooden horses and sitting nearby as our father’s spoke of peace.” Hongjoong looks to the other man, whose expression crosses from surprised to fond. “I feel as though it was more of a memory than fantasy.”

“I believe that it was just that, Joong.” The Phouka sits up until his back rests against the headboard, pulling Hongjoong into his lap fully. _Tail. Do not forget your tail._ Hongjoong quickly reaffirms his glamor. He allows himself to rest his weight in the other’s lap. “Did I say anything to you?” Hongjoong shakes his head. It has not been from his perspective. “That day, I promised you that I would do anything to win your heart.” Seonghwa’s skin heats and Hongjoong immediately sees the flush spread down his neck. “It was embarrassing. I had believed you were a princess; not that it matters now. Even then, I think I had an inkling that I was not only interested in women, but we were young children living in a world built by those who seek marriage and bonds. 

We had met in the garden. You were with your mother, reading some story book, and I was following my father as he sought out the King. Your mother told us to follow you both across the Eternity Bridge and that your father would likely be taking a stroll in the orchard. As we walked, she described the wisteria that hung far above. Its scent covered everything in the area, and its beauty was coveted by men across the Tír na nÓg, but all I could see was you. And then I asked for your heart.” Seonghwa laughs, a warm and calming sound, as he pushes Hongjoong’s hair from his eyes. “And without batting an eyelash, you told me, ‘I do not have a heart to give.’ We were children, Joong! I had never heard something so profound come from anyone my age’s mouth. Neither had my father. Your mother, however, thought it was hilarious. It was only then that she introduced you as Second Crown Prince Hongjoong, but my mind was made up.”

Hongjoong stares at the man before him. While the memory is misty, he can see it in the depths of his mind. A life they lived, but could not afford to retain for long. So distant that he would never have glimpsed at it again if the other had not brought it back to the surface. Tears threaten to spill over and he buries his nose in Seonghwa’s sleep shirt.

“Joong?” 

“‘M alright. I just-” He sniffles softly. “I just did not expect the competition to go like this.” His own damn challenge, leading the past to him like a horse with a dangling carrot just inches from its nose. It was a welcome change of pace to everything that seemingly had went so wrong over the years. “I’m happy.”

Seonghwa sucks in a breath. His voice is tender as he pokes fun at the man settled in his lap. “Are crying people usually happy?” Hongjoong laughs, his chest bubbling with warmth. 

“This one is.” The two fall into comfortable silence as the clock ticks by. Hongjoong’s fingers tug at the unraveling threads along the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling, pulling, he unwinds the thread until it is loose enough to tear. 

His thumbs tracing designs into the bare skin of the Elf’s arm, Seonghwa speaks quietly. “What does this mean for us?” The question hangs in the air. Loaded one, full of smaller webs that threaten to tangle them if they slip up. There is no safety net beneath the trapeze the two swing between themselves.

Hongjoong breathes in sharply. His fingers still where they fidget. “It means I am yours if you will have me.” _The final challenge is the most important._ “There is one last thing for you to understand, Seonghwa, should you accept the final challenge.”

The man before him gives him a doe-like stare. “Of course I accept the challenge.” Hongjoong’s chest constricts and threatens to splinter beneath the pressure. The glamour he has worked so tirelessly drops from him. The only thing separating Hongjoong’s greatest secret from Seonghwa is the layer of thick flannel from his pajama pants. He does not seem to notice the difference. 

_**☾ ☾ ☾ ☀**_

“Show me.” Hongjoong’s voice is deep. He hopes the sensual tones he wishes to exude leak from the words. By the way Seonghwa surges forward, locking their lips once more, he believes it did the trick. The other man holds him tightly around the waist as Hongjoong turns to straddle his legs once more. Warmth spreads through the Elf’s body as Seonghwa kneads small circles into the soft flesh of his hips. It’s a burning desire mingling with the sharp feeling of pleasurable pain. In the back of his mind, he knows the skin will bruise. However, he does not want the other to stop. 

Seonghwa licks into his mouth and Hongjoong immediately gives in to the hum that surfaces from his throat. He sucks the man’s tongue into his mouth, lazily swirling it around his own, and feels Seonghwa brush the roof with kitten licks. Irritated by being entirely overpowered, Hongjoong threads his fingers through the other’s hair, thumbing his horns until Seonghwa groans loudly. 

Suddenly, he finds himself on his back. Seonghwa leans over him, a knee slotting between his legs, and uses the bed as leverage to lift Hongjoong’s hands above his head with only a single palm. His eyelashes brush against the Avalonian’s cheeks like butterfly wings as he continues to deepen the kiss. It is not until a warm thumb brushes over the sensitive bud of Hongjoong’s nipple that the Elf realizes Seonghwa’s hands have moved far up the expanse of his chest. He cannot hold back the high-pitched gasp that sprints from his mouth. Seonghwa, evidently pleased with the noise, repeats the action until Hongjoong breaks their heated kiss to bury his face deep within the comforter beneath him. 

“Hm, I do not like when I cannot see your face.” Seonghwa’s voice is gravelly. It is filled to the brim with heat and the fast-fanned flames of lust. Hongjoong tries to bury himself further, only to have Seonghwa remove his hand from his chest long enough to gently tug his face back into view. “Joong. I want to see you.” Hongjoong squeaks as the other man’s face comes into view. His hair pushed back messily from his forehead, horns curling beautifully, Seonghwa looks ethereal. He could certainly give all Aos Si a run for their ancient money. The sensual glow of their actions flushes his skin like dew. He smiles down at Hongjoong before kissing his temple gently. “I like to watch you crumble.” He picks up where he left off, leaving a scorching trail in his wake. 

Hongjoong pulls at the hem of Seonghwa’s night shirt. “Off.” The other immediately pulls back long enough to begin unbuttoning it slowly. It’s as though he is putting on a private show just for Hongjoong. As each button comes loose from its hole, Seonghwa bites his bottom lip. Fangs drag over the pink, the skin reddening in their path, until finally Hongjoong can no longer take it. He sits up quickly, tearing off his own t-shirt as he does so, and captures Seonghwa’s mouth again. The other opens his mouth in surprise, giving Hongjoong immediate access to push him against the headboard. He breaks the kiss sloppily, staring into the Phouka’s eyes with fervour, and pulls the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt over his head. 

“As beautiful as you are,” He presses a kiss to the man’s pale collarbone and sucks lightly. He wants to mark this creature up. He wants all kingdoms to know the man that he chose. “I do not like to be kept waiting.” 

Seonghwa growls and loops his fingers through the top of Hongjoong’s sleep pants. The other’s eyes open widely as Seonghwa asks, “Are you okay with this?” He gulps carefully. Static buzzes in his ears. It is now or never.

“Yes.” As the fabric slides off of his hips, Hongjoong can feel his tail unwind from his thigh. It is sore from being wound up for so long. As the thin, lion-like appendage frees itself, he hears Seonghwa gasp. His secret is out. 

The Phouka stares down at him, aqua eyes wide, as his mouth flounders open. It feels like eternity before Seonghwa speaks. “I did not know you have a tail.” A smile plays at his lips. “Your father did not.” Hongjoong breathes in slowly. “Neither did King Maddox.” His chest constricts. “I guess your mother’s genes won out.” He leans down again to kiss Hongjoong slowly. “You are beautiful, Joong.” Seonghwa’s fingers brush the place his tail connects to his spine. Hongjoong cannot hold in the loud moan that tears from his throat. 

Suddenly, Seonghwa’s hand palms the fabric undergarment covering Hongjoong’s crotch. The hard member beneath his grasp twitches as Seonghwa’s touch adds pressure. “Seonghwa-” He gasps, the air in his lungs leaving instantly. “ _Fuck-_ ” The other man places a kiss on the tip of his cock from outside of the fabric. Hongjoong writhes beneath him. 

“Do you have a condom and lubricant?” Seonghwa looks up at him, pupils blown wide with desire, as Hongjoong nods and points at the bedside table. The man moves slowly; his touch burning even long after he is no longer on Hongjoong’s skin. As he leans towards the table, Hongjoong can barely utter, “top drawer”. However, the room falls silent. 

**_☀ ☽ ☽ ☽_ **

“Seonghwa?”

When Hongjoong opens his eyes, the Phouka is staring at a photo of the royal family of Avalon together. It was taken before his parent’s deaths. It is his prized possession. In front, Hongjoong and Maddox stand with an arm thrown around each other. Maddox holds a peace-sign behind Hongjoong’s head and the younger realizes it a second too late. Just as the camera snapped the photo, Hongjoong had tried to slap the other. Their parents sit on a bench to the side holding hands. 

“Who are you?” Seonghwa’s voice breaks as he turns to face Hongjoong. “You are in this photo. You are in my past. But your mother does not have a tail. And yet…” His voice falters. Aqua eyes fill with angry tears and he launches himself from the bed, picking up a discarded shirt. Hongjoong stumbles over himself, pulling his flannel pajama pants securely around his waist, and he tries to bumble through an explanation.

“I’m a bastard-” Seonghwa does not wait for him to continue. Instead, he is gathering the few items he can as he moves towards the door. _He is leaving._ “Are you leaving?”

“Are you surprised?”

He does not stop to meet Hongjoong’s gaze as he shoulders into the stone hall. Hongjoong’s tail wraps its way along the base of his own ankle, subconsciously afraid of it moving too quickly and gathering someone else’s attention. _His fucking tail._ How could he have known that would be the breaking point between the two of them? After everything Seonghwa had said. After everything they seemed to have in common. How could he be so stupid as to think someone like Seonghwa could come to love him. It is when the Phouka turns around that Hongjoong feels his heart shatter into a thousand glittering shards of crystal. 

“Your reputation precedes you. I’m just like so many before me, right? Bedding the rising king before he ascends to the throne.” Seonghwa stalks towards him, his voice low. “You act as though you are a trembling virgin. In reality, you use anyone you can.” His words drip neon venom. “But, I am different from every other Unseelie your filthy fingers have poisoned with your touch.

I’m the one who pins the little prince. I was supposed to be the one fucking him within an inch of his life and then finishing him off with a carved Grenumarian blade. I should have shoved it deep within your ribs while you still squirmed beneath me like a hapless virgin.” From his belongings, Seonghwa pulls a silver blade, encrusted with black onyx gems. He throws it to the floor as it clatters against Hongjoong’s feet.

“I wish you would have.” Hongjoong fights the bile that rises in his throat. His skin still sticky with sweat, he feels beyond the grave already. _Why not just get it over with?_

Seonghwa’s eyes trail the marks his nails left along Hongjoong’s pale skin. They linger on his chest, along the hundreds of other scars that litter it, and then flicker back up to meet his own. His plush lips, still bruised and raw from their earlier actions, pull into a tight frown. Despite having seen all of Hongjoong, the Elf fights the urge to cover his body.

“As do I.” With that, the Prince of Grenumar vanishes from Hongjoong’s sight in a whisper of smoke and goldust. He hears the slap of bare feet as the man disappears from view. He does not feel the way the cold stone of his personal corridor bites into his knees and he falls against it. He does not hear the way his skull smacks against it. Or the pounding of leather boots rushing towards his weak, half-naked body. As his eyes solder shut, the only thing he can imagine is aqua filled to the brim with bloodlust and pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I know I just pushed a chapter last night, but this one is another little treat. Kind of.  
> I promise things will get better. While I love angst, this piece is not out for blood. All things will be explained in the next chapter.
> 
> As always, find me on Insta, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji
> 
> \- Reminder: Always take care of yourself. It is important to check in with your own mind in the same way that you would with friends and family. You matter. Also, wash your hands, please.
> 
> Cheers!


	6. Plastic Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! Here's a little apology for that last chapter.

> _ “I can't do this face-to-face, _
> 
> _ But I'll admit that I'm afraid. _
> 
> _ Let these moments go to waste. _
> 
> _ Excuse me for my plastic taste.”  _
> 
> **_Plastic Taste_ ** _ \-  _ **** _ Joji _
> 
> * * *

“In case you have not noticed,” A voice calls across the cavernous expanse. It echos and ping pongs off of every acoustic surface. Silk cushions him. It draws him in like delicate petals. “He has a massive bruise on the side of his head! He is not fit to do anything right now. Let alone tell us where that Unseelie bastard went.”

“Hey!” Another deep voice barks out. He pictures red hair and a white eyepatch. A toothy grin and laugh lines. “Three Unseelie standing right here, Junhee.” 

He can hear the irritation leaking into the first man’s voice. “I apologize, Mingi, but please do see eye-to-eye with me for a moment.” A chuckle drifts through the air. “That was not meant to be a pun, I am so sorry…” His ears feel like they have been pushed beneath a lake as he drifts off again. Nearby, it sounds as though someone is reading to him from a novel.

Warm light dancing across his eyelids is what brings him to. His eyes open slowly and he turns his head only to feel a sharp, pulsating pain. Beside him, Yeosang’s eyes are closed tightly, a book resting on the mattress.  _ Ah, that was the voice.  _ In a chair next to the bed, Wooyoung is slumped. On the floor, San. The three men nap softly and Hongjoong’s heart flutters softly in comfort. He tries to move, but the immediate agony that shoots through him instead makes the Elf throw himself back against the headboard. Yeosang jolts next to him.

“Hongjoong?” His voice is gruff with sleep. The Aos Si rubs gently at his eyes, pushing sleep from them, and yawns into the air. “How do you feel?”

Hongjoong groans in response. The other man only nods before sliding off of the bed, bare feet padding along the chilled floor, and exits the room. Silence buzzes around him, but manages to ring his ears painfully. As the door opens again, Yeosang brings a slew of people. Mingi, Yunho, Jongho, and the guards file in slowly. Each stares at Hongjoong in bewilderment.

Sehyoon is the first to speak. “So, are you going to explain to us how the hell you ended up getting yourself into such a massive dung pile,” The Will O’ Wisp stalks up to the mattress, hands splayed. “Or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” His eyes narrow in a way that strikes fear directly into Hongjoong’s heart. 

“Hey, Sehyoon, that might be a bit-” Donghun tries to pull the other backward, but instead comes face-to-face with fury incarnate. “No, yeah, proceed.” The Wisp turns back to him, hands on his hips, as he makes a face in the crown prince’s direction. 

_ Seonghwa _ . “Where’s-”

Yunho stops him, a hand on his shoulder, and Hongjoong wonders when he got there. “We do not know where Seonghwa is.” The Avalonian frowns, visibly dismayed, as the other man only shakes his head. “He is still in Avalon, but…” He chews on his bottom lip. “We cannot pinpoint him. He cast a cloaking spell. None of the magic users, from your kingdom or visiting, can locate him.”

_ Why do visiting kingdoms know?  _ “You speak of him as though he is a fugitive.”

Junhee grunts. “Joong, he tried to kill you.”

Hongjoong sputters, staring between the men in the room. Each one gives him a similar look of pity; even the three who have only recently woken up. “He did no such thing!” He wished that he had. They both did. But Seonghwa had made no actual attempt on his life. As Hongjoong protests, Jun throws the Grenumarian blade onto the mattress. It’s onyx gemstones glitter mockingly. “It is just a knife, Jun. He did not pull it on me at any moment.”

Chan steps forward, his eyes dangerous. Daring Hongjoong to deny the accusations further. “It is a cursed blade, Joong. One knick and you would have been incapacitated permanently.” Chan picks the blade from the bed, dangling it by its bejeweled handle, and places it back in the wooden box Jun must have pulled it from. “He had a plan.”

_ And his plan had failed.  _ “Grenumar holds no grievances against Avalon.” Hongjoong breathes shallowly. “What goal did he have in mind?”

“Possibly none.” Wooyoung speaks for the first time, his fingers running through San’s hair idly. “It was his father’s blade. One Seonghwa has carried for as long as I have known him. However, our concern is that he revealed it to you. He had it in this room, Joong. While you slept. While you…” He drifts off, his gaze travelling in the direction of Hongjoong’s neck. “He could have used it on you at any moment.”

“He wouldn’t have.”

“Why are you so sure?” Yeosang speaks softly. He cards a hand through his hair. Oceanic eyes lock onto Hongjoong’s refusing to back down. “What do any of us know about Park Seonghwa?”

Nothing. He knows virtually nothing about the man and yet… “I trust him.” He glances around the room. The faces within it and the stories they each hold. A gathering of twelve individuals; strangers by anything but association. “Just like I trust all of you.”

He stands before the group and shifts the flannel pants until his tail can spring free, without exposing his undergarments to the room. He trusts them, but not that intimately. He expects a gasp. A reaction. Anything. Instead, the four members of this party who did not know Hongjoong’s most personal secret stare at him blankly.

“Nice tail?” Mingi says, his own twitching behind him. “Am I missing something?” Hongjoong guffaws. 

“I-” He tries to start again. “I’m not royal by blood. I am a bastard son.” His tail swishes impatiently behind him, threatening to slam into both Wooyoung and San. San, who chooses that moment in particular to gasp. 

“Oh! That was what Wooyoung was trying to explain to me.” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges. Wooyoung cuffs the back of his husband’s head. “Was I not supposed to say that?”

Hongjoong’s mouth falls open. He stares, wide-eyed, at his best friend before motioning frantically. “You told him? When did you do that?”

“Ages ago, Joong. He’s my husband.”

“And I’m your best friend!”

San pouts on the floor beside the chair. “I thought I was Wooyoung’s best friend.”

“You cannot just  _ tell _ people about this!”

“He isn’t just a person, Hongjoong! He’s my husband!” Wooyoung’s voice reaches a different octave. It booms through the small space, demanding attention. Demanding the way Hongjoong’s own words catch in his throat. “For fuck’s sake, Joong, I cannot keep something this big from him. Don’t you think he would wonder why I defer every time another person courts you? Why I always stand behind you so no one can look too closely? It isn’t just because you have a nice ass.” Wooyoung throws his hands into the air. “It’s because for once in my life, I thought I could do the littlest things to help you.” 

Hongjoong can only stare as his mouth flounders open. It’s not long before Wooyoung stands, pulling San with him, and mumbles something about going to grab dinner. The rest of the room lets them leave without even trying to push a guard onto them. Honjoong, in turn, flops onto the bed. Yunho sits gently on the edge of the mattress, a hand rubbing soothing circles into Hongjoong’s back. 

“He was just worried, Hongjoong.” The Cu Sith’s voice is calming. He speaks slowly as to not startle the Avalonian. “We all were. We heard you two yelling in the hall, the guards and Yeosang saw it happen. When you hit the floor, the sound was horrific. And not to mention the blade and the way Seonghwa fled.” He hums disapprovingly. “We need to find him. Not just for your safety, but for his.” Hongjoong nods. “For the record, none of us care if you are a bastard. It is your passion for your kingdom that allows you to be so selfless. We’re asking you kindly, however, to please think of yourself just this once. Whatever that thought is.”

Yunho pushes himself from the bed. His green tail wags when Hongjoong mumbles a quiet, “thank you.” Carefully, the man picks his way back across the room to stand with the others. Byeongkwan steps to Hongjoong’s side, pulling his shoulders until he is in a sitting position. The man stares into his eyes intensely. 

“Get dressed; we need dinner. You’re going to apologize to Wooyoung and then Donghun is going to take you on a little trip to go visit your parent’s graves. If anything, you need to reevaluate a few things, and they are the perfect people to help you get your shit in order.” Something unspoken writhes beneath the Sprite’s words. Hongjoong tries to pull at it, tug it from beneath them, but it does not budge.  _ Wait _ , his mind whispers quietly.  _ Wait and see _ .

Hongjoong agrees quietly. Near the wardrobe, Chan rifles through his clothing. A light blue silk blouse floats into the crown prince’s reach along with tight fitting black trousers. The lace-up ties on the blouse hang down like the remnants of a tattered web. Hongjoong places his feet onto the floor, gathering the articles from the air, and bows thankfully at the group before him. Chan’s magic releases from the clothing, dropping their light, weight material directly into his arms. The chill of the wooden floor carries him to the bathroom and Hongjoong bites the subtle flesh inside his lip. Winter is far off, yet its tendrils reach his heart with a twisting grip.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dinner bites at the group with awkward tension. After arriving at the main hall, it became apparent that revel guests leave seats far and few apart when drifting in their drunken stupors. Bodies writhe sensually in whatever space they can find and Hongjoong distinctly remembers issuing a “no public sex” rule. However, who is he to correct the Fae that choose to never listen? It is not uncommon in the  Tír na nÓg to engage in activities like this. There is no shame in pleasure. There is shame, though, in being ignored as a ruler. 

Beside him, Yeosang sighs. “They do this at every revel. The least they could do to repay your hospitality is get a room.” He shakes his head; blonde hair moving softly to frame his face. Behind them, Jongho laughs under his breath as he takes the open chair next to Yeosang. The group had managed to find a small cropping of mostly empty tables, far from the activities around them, but also occupied by Wooyoung and San. The Asrai’s eyes are red and puffy, obviously from crying, as he sizes up Hongjoong’s neck once more. The anger seems to radiate from him like summer heat.

“Woo, I’m-”

“Did he try to fucking eat you or something?” The man’s voice is low. Mocking. San turns and flicks his forward aggressively. “What? He looks like he got throat punched!” 

Hongjoong’s jaw drops open as Wooyoung shovels a forkful of cabbage into his mouth. Was it truly that bad? A palm subconsciously covers the bruise. The memory of Seonghwa’s lips on his skin seems like nothing more than a bad dream. Or a wonderful nightmare. At this point, he could not be sure of which. 

“It is not Joong’s fault if that Phouka could not keep his mouth to himself.” San laughs. His dimples show deeply as he looks across the table to meet Hongjoong’s baffled stare. “It takes two to tango, but damn, that Fae has a set of teeth on him, huh? You do look a little worse for wear.”

Down the line, Mingi barks a laugh. His cat-like gaze falls onto the only other red-heads in the group. “Sangie said Seonghwa had quite a number done to him as well.” Yeosang gasps as Mingi repeats his commentary. “Our little Prince Joong must also have a way with his men.” Despite Mingi meaning it as a playful quip, Hongjoong cannot help the way his stomach lurches. His men. As though there had been more than Seonghwa in his bed. On his body. 

_ I’m just like so many before me, right? Bedding the rising king before he ascends to the throne.  _ Seonghwa’s words spread and tangle in his mind like blood dripping into clear waters. It spins and threads, touching everything, and turning the food on his plate into sand the moment it touches his tongue. The group falls into chatter, but Hongjoong feels the weight of Wooyoung’s gaze on his face. 

He does not hesitate as he looks up. “I’m sorry, Wooyoung.” The white-haired man frowns. His fork settles onto his plate with a clatter. Wooyoung’s arms cross over his chest definitely. 

“For?”

Hongjoong groans internally. Of course, his friend would make this more difficult than need be. Even as they face imminent death as told by a Banshee’s prophecy, the Asrai still manages to be a nagging thought in the eye of the storm. A beautiful rose’s thorn in Hongjoong’s side. An asshole. 

He clears his throat. “For everything. For acting like you should keep secrets from your husband. For making you hold my burdens along with your own.” Hongjoong looks away, fiddling with one of many earrings dangling from his cartilage. “For being a shitty prince and an even worse friend.” Wooyoung’s fingers wrap around Hongjoong’s hand. He intertwines their pinkies. 

“You have never been anything but a brilliant prince and a caring friend.” Wooyoung smiles at him softly. “You are just a man, Joongie. We all are.” As he disentangles their fingers, he laughs quietly. “You were kind of a dick though. So, I accept your apology.” 

The two rejoin the group’s conversation. Mingi finishes the tail-end of some extravagant tale of adventure and woe while Jongho considers the single golden apple in his hands. Before anyone can move to a new topic, the sound of splintering fruit echoes through the space. In each hand, the man holds a half of the apple. Simultaneously, the group’s mouths drop open. Jongho, however, notices nothing amiss as he passes one of the halves to Yeosang, who takes a bite. 

“Dude,” Yunho mutters. “How are you so strong?” Jongho regards him for a second. Rather than answering, the Banshee shrugs and bites into his own half. 

Hongjoong’s plate clears slowly. Eating is difficult. After the taste of sand dissipated from his mouth, the only thing he could think of was lemon and char. Shoveling a small bite of chicken into his mouth, he struggles to swallow it. His eyes drift through the room before landing on the opposite end of the table. Byeongkwan stares intently and motions for him to come over. Confused, Hongjoong does as he is told, no longer interested in his meal. 

“Take this.” A sandwich wrapped in wax paper is forced into his grasp. “If you’re done eating, Donghun can take you to visit your parents.” He looks to the Selkie beside Byeongkwan. Donghun’s smile is gentle as he nods in response. “I told the others you needed a breather. Go, but come back within the hour. I need to talk to you all when you get back.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“And then he swung his sword right at the poor couple’s back. Not like he would have known they were not wild animals by the way they were growling at eachother.” Donghun animatedly recalls. “Jun needs to be more careful during these things. They’re indefinite, but honestly, he needs to learn to let things go with the flow.”

“I can understand where he is coming from, Donghun. Revels are unsafe. Especially after what we heard…” Donghun waves him off. His hair flops into his face with the movement. “I’m serious. I wish the revel would end already.”

Donghun laughs. Revels never end in a timely matter. It is the way of the Fair Folk to do things how they please and take all the time in the world to seek out the greatest pleasures they can find in a matter of days. “You and me both, Joong. We don’t always get what we want, though, your highness.” The Selkie walks beside him, his arms swinging freely, as they march through the apple orchard. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Hm?” 

“Whatever you do, do not kill him when you see him.” Hongjoong’s blood suddenly freezes in his veins. Lightning runs down his spine as he stills to a complete stop. “What?”

“Who?” Hongjoong’s voice breaks softly. He knows the answer. He was had; by Byeongkan and Donghun both. The sandwich cradled in his grasp suddenly makes sense. “Seonghwa? You knew where Seonghwa was this whole time?”

Donghun nods. His eyes trained on the ground beneath their feet. “Byeongkwan found him. The Prince did not see him standing there. He came back to tell me while you were still sleeping, but could not tell you because Junhee would have most definitely killed Seonghwa.” He sighs. “Honestly, I would have at first sight, as well, if not for what Wooyoung had told us.

The blade Seonghwa threw at your feet, the cursed one, is just a comfort item to him. His father is still alive and well, as we know, but the Prince once told Wooyoung that it was the only thing his father had ever given him. He only carries it as a piece of home. Odds are, something set him off while he was with you, and it was the only threat he could think of to keep from embarrassing himself.” The Selkie meets his gaze. “I wanted to tell you before we left, but you have not seemed well, Joong.”

Hongjoong breathes in sharply. Of course he was unwell. “He did not pass the final challenge. He saw my tail and ran, Donghun.” His eyes burn. Tears threaten to spill over the edges. “Fuck, Donghun, we were becoming intimate. I was ready to give him everything and before I knew it he was tearing out of my chambers. I would rather him kill me then remember what we did together, if he is not to be the one that I marry. I felt a spark for him.” Droplets run down his cheeks. The salt mixing with his sweat and dripping into the dip of his collarbone like rain into a puddle. “He was honeysuckle on a summer day and I was a lost child desperate for home.” Donghung pulls him into a tight embrace. His hand rubs circles into the small of his back soothingly. 

“Do you want to see him? To talk to him?” Hongjoong nods into the other man’s uniform. A small hiccup wracks his body. “You’re going to need to be strong for me, Joong. Byeongkwan said that he was sitting by your parent’s graves. He most likely did not have anywhere else to go without the majority of his belongings.” 

“It was probably familiar to him. Our father’s met beneath the tree on multiple occasions.” Hongjoong pulls away, a fist rubbing against his eyes to brush away the tears. “He told me we met in the past.”

“That’s to be expected. You’re both royals, afterall.” Hongjoong hums in response. He moves forward, boots carrying him through the grass, as he steadies his breathing. Donghun follows silently. Each step scalds Hongjoong’s heart. What if he is gone by the time they arrive? Or he attempts to kill them?

As the clearing comes into view, the first things Hongjoong locks onto are the large, moss-covered stones he had seen just the day before. In the setting sun, they glisten like crystals. Hongjoong’s breath catches in his throat as his stomach plummets. Seonghwa is nowhere to be found. He feels a horrible pang as he stares blurrily ahead. He quietly urges himself not to cry. Not to dry heave. But a shuffling noise above draws his attention.

Perched on a low branch, aqua eyes glare down at him. Cast in the golden light of the sunset, Seonghwa’s hair echoes with a hundred shades of black and brown. Despite still being clad in his sleepwear, the man is ethereal. Hongjoong’s heart clenches terribly. 

“What are you doing here?” The Phouka’s voice is venomous. For a moment, Hongjoong steps back. They are supposed to hate each other. Yet, he wants nothing more than to throw himself into the other man’s arms.  _ Get a grip. He rejected you and your blood.  _ Steadying himself, he lifts the sandwich still in his hands. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Seonghwa growls. Hongjoong cannot help but feel as though he is working with a wild animal. “We need to talk, Prince Park Seonghwa.” He trains his voice into icy, calmness. He has a right to be angry. The beast above him, however, does not. “For the love of the gods, act civil. I may be a bastard, but you are the one acting as though it is you who holds that position.” Donghun chuckles behind him. 

Seonghwa guffaws, but his shoulders drop swiftly. Moments of silence bear heavily on the land. But then, the Unseelie is climbing down from his branch. Slowly, slowly, he wedges himself between outlandish pieces of bark until his feet touch the ground once more. Still, he is wearing no shoes. How did the man leave his boots in Hongjoong’s chambers as he stormed out?

Hongjoong cannot help but laugh quietly as the thought passes through his mind. The sound makes Seonghwa jump. “I’m not going to hurt you, Seonghwa. We need to get you back to safety.” He frowns as the man trembles before him. “How could you come out here in the cold, Hwa?” The nickname slips out unknowingly. It is not until the Phouka lets out a little noise that Hongjoong even realizes what he has said. He does not retract the statement. “Please eat this and come back with me. I want nothing more than to talk to you.”

Seonghwa finally accepts the sandwich, but makes no move to unwrap it. Instead, he speaks in a gruff murmur. “What is there left to talk about?” His face flushes. “Just tell me I’m exiled and I will leave.” Hongjoong’s face grows appalled at the suggestion.

“I will do no such thing.” 

“I pulled a blade on you, Hongjoong.”

“And I am certain you have your reasons.” He watches Seonghwa nod. “So, tell me them now, then. I will be the judge and jury. If your excuse is bullshit, I’ll have Donghun issue the order immediately.”

Seonghwa considers him for a moment. Finally, his fingers work nimbly to open the sandwich. It is mere moments before the entire thing is gone.  _ He was starving _ . No matter the words they exchanged earlier nor the way Seonghwa reacted to his grief. Hongjoong cannot bear to see another creature in any state of dismay. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please.”

“I do not hate you, Hongjoong.” His aqua eyes close tightly. “I wish I did. It would make things so much easier.” A hand runs through the hair at the base of his neck. The man looks close to breaking. “It is one thing to desire someone from a far. And to have those feelings returned is wonderful. It blooms warmth in your heart. But realizing that those feelings are not just for you, that others have experienced the love that you want nothing more than to be only yours, is painful. Seeing you after all of these years made me feel that blossoming adoration again, Hongjoong. But knowing that there have been so many before me was too much to bear.”

_ Huh _ ? “I am confused.” Seonghwa’s brows furrow as Hongjoong speaks. “There has been no one else, Seonghwa.” The Elf runs a hand through his red strands. His fingers occupy by twisting random pieces. “I mean, I kissed Hyunjin the stable boy years ago. We never-” His voice cracks in embarrassment. “We never did anything close to what the two of us did.” Donghun’s presence is overbearing as the two of them speak. Hongjoong knows the guard has to be there. He knows that it is for their safety. But, gods, he wants privacy for this moment. “Seonghwa, I have never slept with anyone. Nor truly been intimate in any way.”

The Phouka seems to short circuit. His mouth flounders open for a second before pulling into a tight ‘o’. “What about Wooyoung?” The name floats through the air for a moment before Hongjoong is cackling. He shakes his head. “Yeosang?”

“Seonghwa, I just met the other royals for the first time today. I promise you,” He smiles slightly, wondering if it is appropriate under these circumstances, “the only one to nearly bed me is you.” He does not think as the other man is pulling him into a warm embrace. The dampness that hits Hongjoong’s neck is no doubt the Phouka’s tears. “There is a lot we need to talk about. Like your reaction to my final challenge.”

“The tail?” Seonghwa’s voice is muffled into his shoulder. He must feel Hongjoong nod as he continues. “‘M sorry. I did not think you were, well, you.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet the Elf’s eyes. “Your kingdom is well-known for housing changelings. I thought that one had taken your place as some kind of cruel joke. I had just assumed-” Seonghwa’s voice cracks painfully. “I assumed I was undesirable to everyone. That your kingdom would rather watch me lose myself to an imposter than to the man I chased for years.” He sighs. “I thought you were using me as a plaything.”

Hongjoong’s heart breaks. “So, you did not care that I’m a bastard?” Seonghwa shakes his head, his eyes widening comically, as he brushes Hongjoong’s cheek with his thumb. Hongjoong cannot stop himself from leaning into the touch. “You were mean.”

“I was more than mean, Hongjoong. You have every right to hate me-”

“I could never, Park Seonghwa. I do not know what it is that you do to me, but,” Hongjoong presses a soft kiss to the soft pad of the other man’s thumb. “I could not let you go. Not yet, not until we spoke again.” And speaking they were. “Come back to the palace? Please. You are freezing to the touch and I want nothing more than to make sure you get into warm clothing.” Seonghwa nods numbly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Warm would be nice.” He gathers the few things he managed to grab before fleeing the castle. “Would it be alright for me to stay near you tonight?” Hongjoong laughs.

A smile cracks across the Avalonian prince’s face like distant sun rays filtering through the cracks of a raging storm cloud. “It would be alright for you to stay near me for the rest of our lives, if you would like that commitment.” He pretends to not hear Donghun’s distressed gasp as Seonghwa slots his lips against Hongjoong’s. 

“Are you asking me to marry you, Prince Kim Hongjoong?” He speaks against Hongjoong’s lips. His voice is smooth molasses. His fangs drag tenderly over the flesh.

“I’m saying that you should consider the possibility.” Lemon and char fills his senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! I have been having a great time with this piece so far. It has been a great escape from the hardships that are going around right now. I also hope the ending to this chapter was a bit sweeter than the last. There are going to be approximately four more chapters and an epilogue. I have also mentioned doing spin-offs for the other couples, so if anyone is interested in seeing that, let me know! The new chapter will be out this weekend.
> 
> As always, find me on Insta, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji
> 
> Cheers!


	7. KItchen Fork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape mention and description of past violence against a main character.

> _ “Wake from a dream where I was stuck, losing my teeth. _
> 
> _ Lucky for me, it was all fake or not what it seemed. _
> 
> _ Where, oh where, do we go next _
> 
> _ Haunted pillow, beneath my head?" _
> 
> **_Kitchen Fork_ ** _ \- Jack Conte _

* * *

_ Acceptance _ . Being received as suitable. Just right.  _ Perfect _ . The way Seonghwa holds his hand, tenderly, as if afraid of shattering the fragile relationship they are building. His eyes as they flutter shut in the spring breeze. The lingering scent of apple blossoms clings to his skin like perfume. The mattress beneath his fingers as he sinks into a silken cloud, the Phouka’s arm thrown over his waist. Warm and tethering him to the world around them.  _ Acceptance _ . 

_ The world is bright. Drawing his senses in to focus on a pinpoint along the horizon and snapping them back like elastic bands on bare skin. The scorched earth stares back at him. It bares its fangs and threatens to pull him along the dirt like an empty sack. A step forward changes the scene entirely.  _

_ The orchard, bare of blossoms, smokes. Burnt branches hang from their mother trees like dozens of falling stars. Embers pile around their trunks. A white and black flag waves slowly in the distance. As he runs forward, the image before him moves further away. Until suddenly, he lurches forward. His knees hit the blackened grass, ash billowing up like dust, and he coughs once. Twice. Twin graves crumble before him. His parents’ names no longer legible on their cracked faces. He lets out a broken screech. Terror ices over his veins as he runs a trembling hand along the stones. Softly. Softly. Softly.  _

_ “Open your eyes.” The voice is clear now. As he turns, a vision of himself leans against a crumbling tree. It flickers between his own form into someone taller. Dark hair cropped short with a single braid running down the side. A golden clasp beads at the bottom. From his pointed ears dangle dozens of glittering coins. Maddox. His white eyelashes lay against his cheeks in the visage of angelic stature. It is only when his brother’s eyes meet his own that he realizes he no longer recognizes the man. “Have you found it?” _

_ He hears his own voice. Gentle and shaking beneath the weight of the other man’s fiery gaze. He is ice. “Have I found…?” Perhaps the question is unfair. That Maddox will not have an answer. Instead, his brother smiles. It is full of pointed teeth of gnashing glass and leaks decay.  _

_ “Your treasure.” _

Hongjoong jolts from the bed. His heart hammers against his chest. Beside him, Seonghwa stirs uncomfortably. Of course, it had only been a dream. The sheer idea that his brother would reach out to him would be ridiculous. The man, by all accounts, was preparing to slaughter him at his own coronation. He breathes heavily. Hongjoong pulls the covers from Seonghwa’s iron grasp. The other man pouts sleepily and throws a thigh over Hongjoong’s own. He pulls him in tightly until his nose is pressed into the curve of the Elf’s neck. 

“Bad dream?” His voice is syrupy and thick with sleep. Groggily, the man runs his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. Hongjoong nods. “They cannot reach you if I am here.”  _ Unfortunately, you are part of them,  _ Hongjoong thinks. Instead, he sighs into his lover’s touch. Sleep does not find him again. Every time his eyes drift shut, images of destruction and rot bombard his vision. By the time Seonghwa begins to snore softly, Hongjoong is desperate to move from the mattress. He wiggles from the Fae’s grasp and scoots off of the bed; careful not to disturb the Phouka. He grabs a cashmere robe from a hook on the bathroom door. 

The material wraps around him like a warm and familiar hug. It had belonged to his father before his death. As he ties the green sash around his waist, he cannot help but cast a glance to the man sleeping soundly in his bed. They had spoken quite a bit before they fell asleep. The misunderstanding had been intense. Its weight bearing too much on Hongjoong’s shoulders. No matter the approval that Seonghwa promised him, the way he denied ever being appalled of Hongjoong’s body, something gnawed at his confidence. His trust. He no longer felt that the man would pull the cursed Grenumarian blade from beneath his pillow and cast it deep within his ribs. However, the heat of the moment may have led to Hongjoong allowing the man back into his life too quickly. Into his bed. 

His bare feet carry him from the room silently. As he enters the hallway, he is caught by the sight of Byeongkwan gently cradling Sehyoon’s sleeping head. The Hyter Sprite’s fingers dust over the other man’s cheekbone just as he meets Hongjoong’s gaze. Immediately, his hand falls back to his side. Instead, Hongjoong raises his index finger to his lips and mouths ‘thank you’. The man turns on his heel to meander towards the private study. What he does not expect to find is Yeosang leaning against the wooden door with his eyes trained on a novel Hongjoong recognizes as one that used to be on his own desk. 

“Prince Yeosang?” The man jumps. The book in his grasp slams shut as he tries to shove it beneath his leg. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hongjoong points to the novel. “I was not planning on reading it. You’re welcome to any of the libraries in the kingdom, even the one in my private study, if you would like.” Yeosang releases the breath he was holding. He casts a toothy grin in Hongjoong’s direction before slowly unveiling the book from beneath his thigh. 

“Thank you, your highness.” Hongjoong slides down beside him with a thump. “What are you doing out here at this hour?” The question comes out deep. It’s obvious, Hongjoong observes, that the man before him is exhausted. 

“I could ask you the same thing. Does Jongho snore?” The words bring a soft pink flush to Yeosang’s cheeks. He shakes his head. “Why don’t you tell him how you feel, Prince Yeosang?” The man’s face flushes crimson up to the tips of his ears.

He sputters and stares at Hongjoong like he has just announced their own engagement. The Elf watches in fascination as small blue, pink, and purple forget-me-nots sprout from the Aos Si’s hair like a natural crown. “What do you mean? I do not-” The words get caught in his throat. Fae cannot tell a lie. “I cannot have  _ feelings _ for Jongho.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes dramatically. “You can have feelings for whoever you want.” His hand comes up to the other man’s shoulder. “And to be brutally honest, your highness, I do not think you have a choice.” Yeosang sinks in on himself. His long sleeves cover his neck as he tucks his head into his bent knees. 

“I cannot have feelings for Jongho, Hongjoong. He’s engaged.” Yeosang’s voice is muffled in the fabric. “His fiancee is beautiful. She is the most wonderful plum sprite and I am nothing in comparison. I broke our relationship off and I have to face the consequences.”

“You sell yourself short, prince.” Hongjoong feels the way his own voice rumbles in his chest. “You are one of the most stunning creatures I have ever laid my eyes on.” Hongjoong rubs at a small speck of glitter on the floor.

Yeosang does not speak for nearly a minute. The Elf lets him have his silence, wondering if he has taken a step too far, until the other prince lifts his head. “Then, why was I not your choice? If I am as beautiful as you say, why not throw the challenge to the wind and pick whoever sparked your joy? Plenty of others do it.” Hongjoong hears the hidden message. _ Jongho did it _ .

“I could tell your heart was not available, Yeosang.” The Aos Si stares at the ground, his cheeks flushing deeper. “You love him. And while I know you did what you thought was best for him, I think you need to care for yourself. Just this once.”

“But his engagement-”

Hongjoong interrupts. His heart breaks for the alliance he knows he is about to sever. However, his love for his newfound friends shines through brighter than that of any alliance. “Can I let you in on a little secret, your highness?” Yeosang nods numbly. “The princess of Ozozar is my cousin.” Ice-toned eyes meet his instantly. “Yeosang, she is in love with her handmaiden. She has been since we were children.” The other man’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as Hongjoong chuckles. “I had no clue who her fiance was until this revel. We meet once a year and all she says of him is that he is ‘preciously clueless’.” 

Yeosang drops his head into his hands; pointed ears glowing red. Hongjoong rubs the space between the Fae’s shoulder blades. “She’s a lesbian?” His voice is so soft, Hongjoong has to lean in close just to hear it. 

“Very much so, yes. Her whole family knows.” Hongjoong runs a hand through his own red hair and laughs. “Actually, they have been encouraging her to break off the engagement since they caught her and the handmaiden in a passionate embrace in the storage closet. They want her happiness. She just has not done so because she does not want to hurt Jongho’s feelings.”

“Does he not know?”

“I’m sure he has a clue. She said once that they tried to kiss, but instead he retched into a bush.” Yeosang laughs tearfully. A smile graces his features as he throws his arms around Hongjoong’s neck. 

“Thank you.” He breathes into the fabric bunched around Hongjoong’s shoulder. “You did not need to tell me and yet…”

“I have told you before and I will say it again, your highness, I appreciate having you as a friend. It is my own way of repaying you.” Hongjoong stands slowly. “And as any such, I do not want to be the only center of attention in the morning.” As he turns to leave, Hongjoong calls out, “Work fast, Prince Yeosang. First to show off their new engagement ring wins.” The other man guffaws loudly behind him. It is a beautiful sound.

The nightmare fades from his mind. He does not forget it, but the vine-like wrap it had on his heart has instead turned to misty tendrils. They wriggle like worms, that is to say, at sudden moments panic lurches through his stomach. Even as he moves down the hall and nods to Byeongkwan once more. His own heavily lidded gaze meets Hongjoong’s and a comfortable smile paints itself onto his features. 

Even as he opens the wooden door and notices the way the filtered moonlight catches Seonghwa’s hair like a falling star. He lays sprawled out on his stomach; horns tangled in a nest of black strands cast silver. One arm rests beneath his cheek, giving him a peacefully angelic look, while the other is stretched across Hongjoong’s side of the bed. The Elf sighs gently. The bruise on the side of his head twinges, as though reminding the prince of its presence. As though it wishes to remind him of how he got it. He frowns.  _ It was a massive misunderstanding fuelled by insecurity. Nothing more nothing less.  _ Hongjoong shuts the door softly behind him. 

Carefully, he skirts around the edge of the mattress. Pressing a single knee onto the bed, he lifts the Phouka’s outstretched arm until there is enough space for him to slide under. Seonghwa makes a soft noise of confusion and Hongjoong immediately stills. He fights the urge to laugh at the other man’s squinted gaze as he opens one blue eye. Apparently, confirming Hongjoong’s identity is enough to please him as he wraps the Elf in his tight grasp with a contented huff. 

“Y’ur cold,” the man slurs into his ear. Hongjoong snuggles against Seonghwa’s chest. “Where’d you go?” 

“The hallway,” he mumbles into the material of his lover’s sleep shirt. “Byeongkwan and Sehyoon were on watch. There’s definitely something between them.” He knows that he is saying too much for the other man’s sleep addled brain to keep it coherent. For once, though, he is not embarrassed to ramble. Seonghwa’s arms are warm and muscular. Within them, he feels safe from the tangling remnants of the nightmare. Babbling is just another way to relieve the tension. “Yeosang was reading outside the study.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa’s voice comes through groggy. He’s not even half awake, but it does not stop Hongjoong. “What novel?”

Hongjoong hums as he cuddles deeply into the other man. His nose tucks into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck and takes in the gentle scent of his own soap on the other man’s skin. “Something he found on my desk.” He pauses, wondering if he should bring up his discovery. “Some romantic history novel.”

Seonghwa takes a moment to respond. When he does, Hongjoong knows the man is about to slip away any second. “Th’as nice.” His slurring speech gives way into soft breathing that tousels the Elf’s hair with every puff. Any other person doing so would make Honjoong squirm in disgust. Seonghwa, however, is slowly becoming his heart’s most important treasure. The consistent sound is what settles Hongjoong’s fluttering mind. _ He is alive. Everyone is alive.  _ The moon is a gentle lover as it caresses his cheek until he drifts off as well. 

Hours later, the morning sun dances across the room. It plies and pirouettes across their eyelids until, finally, Hongjoong rolls onto his back. Arms raised above his head, he stretches like a cat. Shirt lifting softly above his stomach, he feels Seonghwa shift next to him. He must have been pressed against Hongjoong’s chest and only woke up when the other moved away. He rubs sleepily at his eyes. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. A quiet yawn erupts from his chest; revealing sharp fangs. Despite knowing first hand just how sharp they are, the Elf wants nothing more than to reach out and run a finger along their points. Instead, he uses his hands to push him into a sitting position. “You got up last night, right?” Hongjoong hums in agreement. 

“I had another nightmare.” As the words leave his mouth, he is suddenly hyper-aware of the choice.  _ Another nightmare _ . He does not recall ever telling anyone within the thirteen about the first. “I mean-” He does not miss the hurt that flickers across Seonghwa’s features. They just got over a fight about misunderstandings. Why bring back the possibility of another one? “Yeah, another one. It feels like someone is using them to reach out to me.”

Seonghwa frowns. “How so?” He asks quietly. The serious tone catches Hongjoong off guard, but he does not hesitate to answer this time.

“At first, I did not know what I was seeing. It has become glaringly obvious to me now, though.” Hongjoong twists his hands in the sheets. The silk material flutters around them like water. “Avalon’s orchards burned to the ground. My parents’ graves decimated.” He cannot help the way his voice catches in this throat. “Maddox.”

“King Maddox?” 

Hongjoong laughs quietly. The image sounds ridiculous when spoken out loud; an ex-king returning to his kingdom only to bring dissolution. “Yes.” His words sound far away. “My brother.”

Seonghwa’s hand finds his own within the sheets. He twists their fingers together until Hongjoong can no longer focus only on the silk. His other hand comes up to rest beneath his lover’s chin. He tilts it up until their eyes meet. “He is no brother of yours if he aims to dethrone you, Joong.”

“Is that not what brothers do?” The two share a soft smile. “Besides, I have no throne.” With that, he tries to disentangle himself from the other’s grip, but Seonghwa has different ideas. He pulls Hongjoong’s face close to his own before planting a gentle kiss on the Elf’s nose. 

“Might I remind you, I am here.” He moves away from the other man. “Unfortunately, Prince Hongjoong, you are going to be the King of Avalon. And you will spend the next eternity ruling alongside a rather stubborn Unseelie prince.” Seonghwa huffs; offended that his fiance would even allude to their future not being set in stone by a red thread. Hongjoong blows a strand of red hair out of his eyes, grinning like an idiot, and swivels out of the bed.  _ His king. _

Getting dressed proves to be a more difficult task, however, because the moment his sleep shirt is off, Seonghwa has somehow made his way across the room in mere steps.  _ Curse his long legs.  _ The man wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s bare waist. “Hwa, we need to go find the others.” The Phouka mouths at the base of his neck, sucking a mark where the others will definitely be able to see. He grins against the flesh as Hongjoong releases a soft gasp. “Seonghwa, I’m serious.”

“We have time.” The brunette mumbles, his fingers drumming along Hongjoong’s stomach. “They can wait.” His stomach growls loudly in the silent room and the Elf in his grasp lets out a bark of laughter. Seonghwa’s face lights up red as he withdraws from the other. Before he can go too far, Hongjoong tosses him a black and blue tunic with golden detailing. The sheer blue sleeves flutter through the air as Seonghwa catches it with one hand. He stares quizzically at the Avalonian. 

“It was Maddox’s. Thought it would look good with your hair.” And eyes. And everything. “The fit should be about right.” He returns to the wardrobe, searching for something suitable for a newly engaged prince. Preferably, something with a high collar. From the depths of the closet, he pulls out a scarlet lace top with a low-cut neck. The cut is held together with intricate black ribbon and its long sleeves bunch at the elbow only to billow out to the wrist. Paring it with high waisted slacks with large buttons to die for. As he turns to show Seonghwa his masterpiece, he is met with the man’s bare back. 

Black wings flutter gently against his shoulder blades. The top ones are long and thin. They are gasoline pooling on black asphalt as the summer sun beats down on them. But as Hongjoong glances down to the lower two, his heart tugs painfully. The pale skin around them puckers and scars as though someone wretched a knife into the flesh. The thin chitin exoskeleton is torn in various locations. A single cut runs from the center of one wing to the outer left edge. It hangs pitifully for all to witness. 

He wonders if he should speak. Once more, he does not filter the words that flit from his mouth. “Hwa, who did this to you?” His feet carry him to the other man’s side just as he turns to respond. 

“Human poets.” His voice is heavy. “They had been held captive in the  Tír na nÓg for far too long and sought after the first Fae they could have.” His body trembles at the memory, hands tightening around the soft fabric of the tunic in their grasp. “They had their way with me and then let me go.”

“Did they-” Hongjoong’s voice breaks as he struggles to find the words. Seonghwa seems to understand wordlessly, however, and only shakes his head.

“They took my innocence in ways other than that, Joong.” He lays his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder. As he breathes deeply, dark strands tickle his cheek. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been to still have feeling in them. Other times, I want to fly.” 

Hongjoong wraps his arms tightly around the boy. His thumbs run up and down his back, idly designing an intricate pattern. “How old were you?” It is a whisper. If Seonghwa was not so close, he would not have heard it.

“14.” That meant fourteen years of knowing the brush of a hand against the delicate exoskeleton. The way the nerves warmed in the sun. Likely four years, after training, of the wind through his hair and nothing beneath his feet. Things Hongjoong had only learned through brief flights with Byeongkwan and Wooyoung, but nonetheless, they made him feel free. And from here, Seonghwa seemed to feel anything but.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong breathes into Seonghwa’s hair. He’s sorry. For everything the Fae had taken from him and the path they seemingly continued to trapeze down. Seonghwa seems to sense the turn Hongjoong’s thoughts have taken and leans up to press a soft kiss to the Elf’s lips. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He pulls away from Hongjoong and grabs the tunic from where he had set it out on the bed. “With the weight of the prophecy holding itself over us, Hongjoong, the last thing I want you to do is fret about the unchangeable past.” The tunic’s material slips over his head. “I won’t have our first day as an officially engaged couple contaminated with something that already wrought problems unto our relationship.” 

Hongjoong purses his lips in confusion. “What do you mean?” Seonghwa tilts his head as he laces up the golden ties on his sleeves. It’s a slow and meticulous process. Or the man is making it into one to avoid answering. Once finished, he finally meets Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“My blade.” He loops a leather belt around his waist. “My father had it made after they found me in the woods. I only carry it for protection in case I land into another compromising situation.” Seonghwa pulls his boots from beneath the bed; where he must have kicked them to after the two came home the night before.  _ Home _ . The word passing through Hongjoong’s thoughts scares him less than he expected.

Hongjoong nods. He does not trust his voice to stay steady as he imagines this man at the hands of vengeful humans. Even the thought of him carrying a cursed blade simply because he fears it happening a second time toils the Elf’s stomach. Instead, Seonghwa laces their fingers. 

“As we both know,” He says. “I am quite hungry. Would the others mind if we went on ahead of them?” Hongjoong does not stop the sweet smile that crosses his lips.

✧ ✧ ✧

They most certainly did mind. It was obvious the second Wooyoung barrelled into the nearly empty commons and slammed his hands on the table top. The sound reverberates through the room for a few seconds as the rest of the group files in behind San. Hongjoong, a mug of lavender and honey tea raised to his lips, sputters as the Asrai opens his big mouth.

“What? You get a taste of Unseelie dick and now you won’t even wait for your friends?” He flops into the seat next to Seonghwa. The Unseelie in question flushes crimson. As the tea slides down the wrong pipe, Hongjoong finds himself gagging on the hot liquid. San, obviously not in a rush to keep his feral husband reined in, rounds the table to pat the Elf’s back. Hongjoong directs a thankful expression his way before turning his attention back to Wooyoung. 

“He was hungry,” he says. The mug finds its way back to the table as Wooyoung chooses that same moment to pound the wooden surface repetitively. He punctates his sentences with a decent smack. 

“We. Were. Hungry. Too!” Wooyoung pouts across the table, white hair wild, before finally snagging a piece of toast from the options before them. “God, if you didn’t know so many of my secrets, I would have dropped your ass long ago.”

Hongjoong hums, a forkful of eggs coming to rest just before his lips. “I thought my ass was the reason you stayed.” A playful grin plasters itself on his face as he watches Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “I’m serious, he used to tell all of the knight recruits that if it was not for my ass, he would never visit Avalon. I guess I was watering hold gossip.”

Wooyoung mocks offense. “Babe, your ass is not the only thing you’re worth to me.” He grins. “You have nice tits too.” San reaches across the table to cuff his husband before landing in the seat next to Hongjoong.

Mingi approaches the group from behind. A very large, very visible bruise makes an appearance on his collarbone. San is the first to notice as an imp-like grin rips across his face. “Who’s the lucky lady, Song Mingi?” He whistles. “She must have been a wild thing. You at least gave Yunho a warning, right?” Mingi’s face flushes red as he takes the seat on San’s other side. Despite the thick material of his long sleeved top, a number of other hickies line the man’s skin. It is not until Yunho takes the seat across from him with nearly half a dozen marks that San’s mouth drops open. “No fucking way.”

Yunho waves frantically. “Please don’t make this into a scene-”

“You two hooked up! How can I not make a scene?” 

Yunho’s ears burn bright before any other part of his skin. Nervously, a hand covers his mouth as he mumbles, “My mom and brother are right over there, San.” The group whips around to make direct eye contact with Gunho. His eyes lock onto his older brother’s neck and he rolls them dramatically as he rejoins whatever conversation he was having with the other young royals at his table.  _ Teenagers _ . 

Mingi shovels an entire pancake into his mouth and refuses to make eye contact with anyone at the table. Even as the guards join the group. Hongjoong glances around the room in search of a certain Aos Si and Banshee duo, but is met with emptiness. Byongkwan, having taken a nearby seat, frowns at Hongjoong’s expression. 

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong asks. “Jongho?” Byeonkwan shakes his head. 

“I knocked on their door earlier. Yeosang answered, but said he was not feeling well enough to eat. His eyes were red and pretty puffy, so I just assumed it was better to let him do as he wants.” Byeongkwan focuses on buttering a piece of bread. “I don’t think Jongho was there.”

Hongjoong’s heart flips. Did he confess? And if so, had Jongho turned him down? It does not seem possible; not with the way they care for each other. Across the table, Seomghwa catches his eye. He raises a dark eyebrow. Hongjoong can only shake his head and take a sip of his tea. It is not his place to say anything.

The group falls into regular conversation. Around them, it seems that the revel has finally worn down enough that the non-royal guests have made their departure. Over the last few days, Hongjoong wondered how long it would take guests to leave the kingdom. Looking at the group around him, he cannot help but have the same question for his own friends. For once in his life, he does not feel alone. His heart yearns to have their presence remain for at least a little longer. Until he knows that they are safe. Having lost himself to his own thoughts, he does not notice the presence sinking into the only other empty chair beside him.

“There you are! We were just talking about you.” Mingi laughs at the newcomers. 

“Good things, I hope.” Jongho’s voice is strong. Devoid of any cracks or fissures. On the other hand, Yeosang sits quietly next to Hongjoong. His hands pulled deep within his sleeves, he offers the group a small smile before pouring himself tea. As Hongjoong attempts to ask him how he fares, he notices Yeosang’s birthmark is uncovered. It is a rarity to see the mark again, but as the man feels his gaze on him, he flushes and fluffs his hair until it is his mostly hidden.

“Where were you two?” Yunho asks. His tail swishes excitedly behind him. Jongho shrugs and pours water into his glass. “You’re always one of the first ones up,” he directs to Yeosang. The Aos Si smiles again and nods, sipping the tea slowly. 

Jongho rubs the back of his neck as he yawns. Everyone studies the two quizzically. “He lost his voice and I went to get medicine.”

San narrows his eyes at the youngest member of the group. “How did he lose his voice?” Yeosang’s face flushes an even deeper shade of pink. “Not you two, too! Why are you all so nasty?”

Hongjoong screeches, “As if you can talk.” He motions between San and Wooyoung. “You’re married! I’ve caught you having sex at least four times since you came back to visit!” He throws a napkin in Wooyoung’s direction who throws his hands up in a ‘what did I do’ gesture. 

Seonghwa gawks at him. “In our bed?” His voice draws the entire group’s attention. Yunho’s tail falls quickly. 

“Did you just say, ‘our bed’?” The Cu Sith asks. His eyes are wide as he speaks, looking between the two men like they might bite him. Hongjoong feels that it is his turn for his face to light up. “Are you two-”

Wooyoung yells loudly across the table. “Are you two engaged?” Hongjoong struggles to find his words as the Asrai flails wildly. “You didn’t even ask my blessing, you asshole!” This time, his insults are directed towards Seonghwa who opens his mouth in a flabbergasted manner. 

The guards’ end of the table echoes his statement. Each one wears an expression mixed with shock and playful betrayal. “Way to go, future son-in-law,” Jun laughs. Hongjoong cannot help the smile that flits across his face. Jun has always been an older brother figure to him. Even if the pang for his own family hits his chest, he knows that Jun considers him to be the same. All of the guards do. As a family, it's just how they have grown together.

Hongjoong spreads his hands before him, laughing, as he gestures to the group. “It’s not like any of you gave me a choice.” He smiles at the man across from him. “Seonghwa was the only one who passed my tests.” Seonghwa flushes under the hidden compliment.  _ He was the only one who threw himself into this head first.  _

“Joong, a promise is a promise.” His fiance says over the mug he had been sipping coffee from. “Not surprisingly, I am a bit of a stubborn bastard.” Next to him, Wooyoung laughs.

“Tell me about it. Our parents were bound and determined to get us hitched. I always thought you turned down my proposal because you were a pompous ass. Turns out, you just were head over heels for that red-haired doofus.” His gaze travels to San as the other man pokes at a cherry tomato that rolls across his plate. When he finally meets the other man’s eyes, his dimples appear full-force. “Thank god for that though.” He slides a hand across the table and lays it over San’s. Hongjoong fakes a gagging sound. “It’s partially your fault we ended up together,” The Asrai snarks. “Seonghwa would not shut up about someone from his past every time I tried to propose.”

_ A promise is a promise.  _ Hongjoong’s gaze meets Seonghwa’s again. This time, the man gives him a bashful look rolling his eyes. Wooyoung leans back into his chair, motioning at the happy couple. “I’m proud of you idiots. Just don’t burn down Avalon and Grenumar when this whole thing is official.” The words come out of the Asrai’s mouth casually. Something in Hongjoong twists as he sucks in a sharp breath. Seonghwa, realizing the irony in Wooyoung’s words, sets his mug down with a slight clatter. As the rest of the group senses the tension, the conversation dulls into stark silence. Wooyoung looks between the two; eyes wide and pink mouth floundering. “What did I say?” 

Instead, Jongho answers. The brunette’s own gaze is distant and Hongjoong wonders if he even notices the way Yeosang grabs his hand beneath the table. How it should be completely out of the norm for the two to hold hands despite Jongho’s engagement. Yet, he makes no move to acknowledge it. “The prophecy showed us portions of Avalon burnt to the ground.” Wooyoung’s lips pucker in embarrassment. 

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright, Woo,” Hongjoong says, a soft expression on his face. “I’ve been having dreams lately. About Maddox and my coronation,” He looks to Seonghwa who nods slowly.  _ Go ahead.  _ “I have reason to believe my brother is sending me messages.” With that, he recounts each dream to the group before him. Silence pitters over the group like rainfall on sullen leaves. It is only when Yeosang clears his throat that Hongjoong finds himself able to breathe again. 

“I mean no offense with what I am about to say, however,” He holds up his left hand. On it, a ring of woven clovers rests. Hongjoong barks out a laugh and Yeosang shares a knowing grin. “I would quite like to stay alive long enough to see my wedding day.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! Sorry for the lack of updates over the last few days. I've been playing Animal Crossing New Horizons and once again sold my soul to a family of raccoons.   
> With that, all of our main couples are now together. I didn't want to rush anyone into things, but also, when you have a death-prophecy looming over you, life seems a lot shorter. I'd also like to say, this chapter is probably the last *not-super-heavy* one until the end. From here on out, we're trudging into the rough stuff. 
> 
> As always find me on Insta, Tumblr, and Twitter: @KyojinOuji
> 
> Cheers!


	8. You Were a Home That I Wanted to Grow Up In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: NSFW CONTENT and Violence. There are symbols to denote where one can stop reading and resume reading if you chose to skip the NSFW bits. The violence, unfortunately, cannot be skipped. It makes up the majority of the end and will play an important role in the finale chapters.
> 
> ☾ ☾ ☾ ☀ - Shows where NSFW begins. (It is left aligned.)  
> ☀ ☽ ☽ ☽ - Shows where NSFW ends. If skipping the NSFW section, at least read after these markings. (It is right aligned.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the trigger warnings!  
> Welcome to the home stretch.

> _“You can love again, despite the things you said;_
> 
> _About caring too much for a person you thought was_
> 
> _The most important part of your life._
> 
> _But that's what you get for opening a closed door_
> 
> _In hopes they'll find love on the inside_
> 
> _I'm a house with no windows,_
> 
> _You're the flowers on the front porch_
> 
> _And I can't stop.”_
> 
> **_You Were a Home That I Wanted to Grow Up In_ ** _\- Flatsound_
> 
> * * *

Adjusting to life after the revel is not difficult. As the final guests trickled from the castle walls, Hongjoong felt a deeply concealed breath make its way from his chest. It was quiet. Save for the gentle padding of his boots down the stone corridor, not a soul moved through the space. He had elected to give all of the staff the day off. Even his guards, who insisted they did not need a break, were sent off into town. 

“Go on dates. Find pretty ladies.” Hongjoong had said, pushing them from the private study’s thick doorway. “I have a wedding and a coronation to plan. Lord knows that you five,” He gestured to the gawking group. “Will do nothing but stand there menacingly.” As he closes the door, he hears the loud grumbling grow muffled. And then silent as the knights give into his demands.

He pushes the study door back open, unlocking the intricate magic charms that run their course within its design, and collapses into his desk chair. He had left only for a few moments to grab fruit from the kitchens. The green apples roll down the smooth plane of the desk, making to tumble from the height. As he scrambles to stop their descent, a large hand settles in front of them. A deep chuckle rumbles through the space as the palm wraps around one of them. Raising it to his lips, the individual smiles at Hongjoong. A dainty, golden engagement ring glitters on his finger like sparkling tides. 

“Didn’t you tell the guards that you were going to be in this room all day?” Seonghwa’s voice is playful. “I don’t think we have apples stashed away in here.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes and bites into a piece of the fruit. 

He chews slowly, eyes not leaving the parchment rolled out in front of him. “Must you be snarky even now?” He looks up to the other man; eyes narrowing. “You obviously were interested in a snack.” Seonghwa swallows the bite he had taken only to laugh. “Do you prefer hyacinths or daisies?” 

Seonghwa thinks deeply. His thighs rest against the cool wood of the desk. “Hyacinths are beautiful, but is the myth appropriate for a wedding, love?” A game of quiot gone horribly wrong. Apollo’s throw cast off course. A god’s jealousy. Commemorating your dead lover with a beautiful flower that only taunts you through eternity. The typical bury-your-gays tragedy. 

Hongjoong laughs. “It’s oddly ironic, though, is it not?” He takes another bite from his apple as Seonghwa hums thoughtfully. “I know forget-me-nots will be incorporated somehow. Would you be interested in a flower crown?” He stares into the middle distance, his own thoughts consuming him once again. His fiance leans over, pulling a soft cheek to his lips, and presses a gentle kiss to the flesh. 

“If you so desire that I wear a flower crown,” He says, “I will do so.” He punctuates his sentence by slotting his lips against Hongjoong’s for a chaste kiss. Citrus mixes with sour apple as the other man pulls away. “I do ask that you keep my horns in mind. Flower crowns might be difficult to maneuver around them.” Absentmindedly, Hongjoong threads a hand into Seonghwa’s hair. His thumb brushes the rigid bone that sprouts from the other man’s skull and the Phouka lets out a soft sigh. 

**☾ ☾ ☾ ☀**

“There are plenty of things I desire of you, Hwa.” Hongjoong stands from his chair. Gingerly, he tugs on the man’s hair until Seonghwa is forced to face him. He presses his lips against the other’s with sudden desperation. The Phouka breathes into his mouth as Hongjoong works the seam of his lips apart. As his tongue pushes through the gap, Seonghwa gasps. The Elf grins against his lips, pushing further into the other’s mouth, and positions his body between his fiance's knees. 

As Hongjoong moves his attention to Seonghwa’s throat, a warm hand snakes up the front of his light tunic. “Joong,” the other man grinds out. “The papers.” Beneath him, the wedding plans have been crumpled into disarray. Hongjoong fights the urge to laugh at the older’s distress. One of the traits Hongjoong has observed is Seonghwa’s impossible urge to keep everything tidy and perfect. Instead of helping him this time, however, Hongjoong presses a knee delicately against Seonghwa’s crotch. The pressure elicits a delicious groan from the Phouka. 

“I’m about to fuck you breathless,” Hongjoong uses his knee to rub a small circle against the other. “And you’re concerned about the damn papers?” He presses an open-mouth kiss to Seonghwa’s neck before he nips at the fragile skin. 

Seonghwa pushes him back slightly, blue eyes blown wide with desire. “You worked hard on them. I don’t want to ruin them.” His head tilts to the side as Hongjoong groans in pent-up frustration. “It will only take a second.” Hongjoong knows that complying is the only way to get what he wants. He quickly slides the wedding plans out from beneath the other’s ass, opens a desk drawer, and shoves them in messily. “Joong-” 

“Can I _please_ get back to the more important matter at hand, love?” He huffs. A hand pushes red-hair back from his sweaty forehead. Damn, summer was approaching too quickly. Seonghwa laughs softly before settling himself back onto the desk. 

“Of course.” Seonghwa says, pulling Hongjoong’s lips back to his own. He steers the Elf with a firm grip in his hair until suddenly Hongjoong breaks the kiss. He grins mischievously before placing a palm on Seonghwa’s crotch. As he thumbs over the obvious hardness, he plants a single kiss on the corner of his fiance’s mouth. 

“Can I suck you off?” Seonghwa only stares back for a moment. “I mean, I don’t have to, but I-” The other man pulls Hongjoong into a heated kiss. 

As they separate, he licks at his lips. “Only if you want to.” Hongjoong smiles brilliantly before removing Seonghwa’s belt. He tugs the fabric of his pants and undergarments in one fell swoop, allowing the hard member into the air. 

“Of course I want to.” And with that, he presses a tender kiss to the head of Seonghwa’s cock. Hongjoong’s red-hair flops into his eyes, blocking them from view, and frustrating the Phouka to no end. Carefully, he pushes the strands back from Hongjoong’s face and catches the heated stare the man gives him as he licks into the slit. Seonghwa cannot prevent the moan that erupts from his throat as Hongjoong slides his mouth down the shaft. The warm heat sends Seonghwa’s heart into quick palpitations as his lover’s head bobs, pushing further each time. It is only when the Elf reaches the base of his cock the Seonghwa’s back arches into the hollowed out tug of Hongjoong’s mouth. 

“ _Fuck_ .” His grip on the man’s hair tightens exponentially. In the back of his mind, he prays that he is not hurting the other, but cannot get the words out. “Fuck, Joong, that’s good. You’re so good, love.” The man pulls off, licking a clean stripe along the underside of the member. As his mouth surrounds Seonghwa’s cock again, the Phouka lets out a deep sound. He can feel warmth pooling in his stomach, a warning, and he tugs Hongjoong’s hair slightly. “Wait, wait, wait. I can’t- Joong, not yet.” His voice does not sound like his own. “ _Fuck_ , baby, you need to stop. I want you to fuck me.” His breathing is ragged as Hongjoong finally pops off of him. His hair is perfectly mussed. Saliva and precome dribbles down his chin. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” He leans over to open one of the desk drawers. Among the quills and ink, he pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. Hongjoong smiles reassuringly and squeezes Seonghwa’s hand. How could they have predicted their first time actually going through with sleeping together would be in the study? On a desk, nonetheless. As he sets the bottles to the side, Hongjoong tilts his head. “Do you want to move to the couch? I don’t want you throwing out your back.” He pauses thoughtfully. “At least, not too bad.” His expression is devilish. 

Seonghwa nods and slides off of the desk. Before moving, he strips off the last pieces of his clothing. Hongjoong follows in suit, finally glad to be out of the constricting outfit. Pants, shoes, and shirt all piled onto the floor, Seonghwa tries to fold them as Hongjoong groans. “Couch. Go. Now, _please_.” The other laughs as he flops backward onto the velvet cushions. “This will be a bitch to clean.”

“Then don’t make a mess.” Seonghwa snarks. Oh, how Hongjoong wants to make it so the other man cannot form a coherent thought. As he tosses the supplies onto the cushions next to his lover, Hongjoong gives him a mischievous look. Seonghwa only realizes what the other is doing as his tongue runs a slick line along his puckered hole. He gasps loudly, arching into the couch, as Hongjoong struggles to hold him in place. Slowly, Hongjoong works the tight hole with his tongue. He traces gentle patterns against the flesh, pushing in further and further until the other man is a moaning mess. 

Proud of the monster he has created, Hongjoong drizzles lube onto his fingers. Carefully, he pushes one in alongside his tongue and works the other man open until he is able to slide a second one in minutes later. He curls them in just the right way, apparently, as Seonghwa howls and scrambles for purchase on the cushions. _Perfect_. He adds a third finger carefully, grinning at the mewling of his lover. By the time he scissors the opening into something pliable, Seonghwa is a squirming mess and Hongjoong’s own cock leaks precome. He rolls the condom onto it carefully.

“Hongjoong, if you don’t put your dick in me right now-” Hongjoong presses himself against the entrance, effectively quieting his mouthy partner. “ _Please_ .” Seonghwa cries quietly. Hongjoong obliges and slides forward gently. His cock presses into the warmth with little resistance. Beneath him, Seonghwa rocks, trying to force him in deeper. By the time Hongjoong bottoms out, the other man mewls lewdly. “ _Fuck_ ,” He rasps. “Oh _fuck_. Please move. Please, god, move.” Hongjoong does as he is told. Slowly, he begins to move within Seonghwa’s body and cannot help the soft groans that leave him. As their speed picks up, the two seem to find common ground. Seonghwa’s form shakes beneath his, pleasure wracking through him as he pulls closer to his orgasm. As Hongjoong drives his cock towards the bundle of nerves within the other man, he begins to reach his own. 

“Hwa, you’re so warm.” He presses a kiss against the man’s lips. The motion draws a long moan from the Phouka. “Baby, you feel so good. You like being filled up, don’t you?” His voice is low in his fiance’s ear. Seonghwa whines his approval. His voice growing higher and higher with every thrust. Hongjoong’s hand wraps around the other man’s cock, stroking him in time with his movements. “You wanna come, love?” Seonghwa pleads quietly. It comes out a rambling mess of Hongjoong’s name and various degrees of ‘yes’ and ‘please’. “Come for me then.” Seonghwa does just that. Seeing his fiance’s form shudder relentlessly, Hongjoong’s own release arrives quickly. He collapses on the other man. “Seonghwa, I love you.”

Seonghwa sucks in a quiet breath. “I love you too, Honjoong.” The two lay curled around one another on the small couch. Seonghwa’s fingers trace detailed designs into Hongjoong’s damp skin. The space between them is sticky, but Hongjoong cannot find it within himself to care. Not until Seonghwa finally clears his throat. 

“Do you mind if I draw a bath?” Hongjoong laughs loudly, rolling himself into a sitting position, and grabs his lovers hand. The two wander towards the private bathroom. Seonghwa hardly even limps. It makes Hongjoong’s heart swell with pride, because thank god, he did not hurt him. 

**☀ ☽ ☽ ☽**

As Hongjoong runs a hand through his drying hair, he smiles at the reflection of his fiance relaxing in the water. Eyes shut, his arms rest on the lip of the tub. Hongjoong wonders briefly if the man is sleepy just as an aqua eye cracks open. Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, droplets of water drip and pool into the dip of his collarbone.

“Is everything alright? You’re staring.” Hongjoong hums at the Fae’s deep voice. Slowly, he makes his way to the edge of the tub. Towel wrapped tightly around his waist, he kneels beside it. A hand traces gentle designs on Seonghwa’s bare arm as he presses a light kiss to the Phouka’s temple. 

“Mhm.” Hongjoong pushes the hair out of Seonghwa’s eyes. “I might have a staring problem. It happens when I see beautiful things.” He giggles and scrambles out of the way as Seonghwa splashes bath water at him. The subtle floral scent of the salt remedy Hongjoong dumped into the water wafts through the air like a threaded needle. 

Seonghwa smiles playfully, his eyes closing again as he basks in the water’s warmth. “It appears that I am marrying a sap.” 

“You should have picked up on that a while ago.” Hongjoong stands; his legs sticky as he pulls the warm skin away from the cool tile. “Although, I could say the same of you.” Again, Seonghwa’s eyes open and narrow at him. “I caught you staring at me this morning.” 

“The light was hitting you perfectly.”

“You stare at me every morning, Hwa.”

The other man rolls his eyes dramatically. His hands fly up in an innocent gesture. “The light hits you _perfectly_ every morning.” Hongjoong snorts a laugh. 

✧ ✧ ✧

Weeks pass quickly. By the time Hongjoong is ready to admit that the wedding is upon them, he has already found his own room looking more lived in than it has in years. The bulk of Seonghwa’s belongings have unceremoniously made their way into the castle. As summer nears its end, Hongjoong sends out hundreds of invitations to the bonding ritual. And as they return to him, his heart flutters with twittering excitement. _Their wedding_.

Three days before the event, carriages begin to arrive in Avalon carrying some of the most important figures for the wedding. As a particular Asrai sets his feet on the cobblestone path just outside the castle, Hongjoong cannot stop himself from charging the poor man. Wooyoung catches him flawlessly; spinning him around as though he weighs nothing. Beside him, San grins toothily. 

“I missed your ugly mug.” Wooyoung pinches his cheeks gently. As Hongjoong takes a step back, he immediately hones in on the couple’s hair colors. San has forgone his usual red highlights for a blue pop of color in the front of his bangs. Wooyoung, on the other hand, has darkened his entirely. Hongjoong reaches forward and whistles as he fluffs the strands wildly. 

“What, you had to have some attention on yourself?” The remark is playful. Wooyoung chuckles. He bats the other’s hand away as he snakes his arm around San’s waist. 

Shaking his head, he mumbles, “No, but I could not let San show me up.” He motions at his husband’s blue streak. “He insisted on doing something different a few weeks ago and I was bored.”

Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong into a hug from behind, earning a loud squeak from the Elf. “You both look nice.” His voice is deep against the top of Hongjoong’s head. Each word tickles.

San’s eyes twinkle as he looks between the two of them. “You do as well,” he speaks like a breath of fresh air. Despite Hongjoong’s distaste for the majority of trickster Fae, the fox is a match made in heaven for Wooyoung. His partner in question leans against his side as though they were born to be attached at the hip. For all Hongjoong knows, they were. He remembers the wedding between his two dearest friends lovingly. It had only been two springs prior, but it felt like an eternity. 

Hongjoong bows slightly before the two men. There was never a reason for them to be formal with each other, but something in the air between them lingers. It expresses a need for just the most gentle nudge of formality between two crowned kings and those that were approaching their own union steadily. Wooyoung’s expression grows serious as he watches Seonghwa bow alongside his fiance. As though he senses the change as well, he demonstrates the action in response. San follows effortlessly; his dimpled expression untarnished. When the four of them rise, the atmosphere seems to lighten. Ancient magic resurfaces at the oddest moments. Its taste for tradition apparently ingrained in the soil of Avalon itself. 

“Welcome home.” Hongjoong smiles at the two before him. Seonghwa’s hand finds his own as the two intertwine their fingers. At the phrase, Wooyoung’s face bursts into a grin that rivals sunlight itself. 

“We’re home.” As Wooyoung’s words fade into the pleasant breeze, Hongjoong’s heartstrings pull with familial admiration. No matter how far any of them go, Avalon will always be the home that welcomes them back with open arms. The group works to gather the ridiculous amount of luggage the two kings insisted on bringing with them and shoo away the frantic staff members who want nothing more than to help. Hongjoong snickers to himself. He is nothing if not a king for his people and he will not have them lift a finger more than they need. If it was up to him, he would not have the large outcropping of staff that he employs. However, his citizens need jobs and the castle needs tending. His staff is entitled to a large number of benefits as well. According to Junhee, the love he holds for the people of the kingdom radiates from his very being. 

As they drop off the majority of the couple’s belongings, the group separates. San claims he would like a nap before the real activities begin, but Hongjoong knows better. Wooyoung gives him a sly wink as he shuts the door to their accommodations. By nightfall, the other figures of the prophecy will arrive. His closest friends; those who became family to him. His thoughts linger on their fate. Their future. He brushes the negativity from his mind as Seonghwa presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, love.” His eyes are filled with subtle concern. Hongjoong places his fingers on the center of his fiance’s forehead and pretends to smooth out the furrow that appears with the expression. Seonghwa laughs as he pushes the other man away gently. “Stop doing that.”

“You stop,” Hongjoong mumbles. “You’ll have wrinkles by the time we’re thirty if you keep looking at me like that.” _If we even survive this week,_ his thoughts grumble. 

Seonghwa grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall tenderly. “It’s not my fault. You worry me.” His thumbs rubs small circles into the inner portion of Hongjoong’s wrist. It’s a habit he had picked up whenever his own thoughts began to race. “I have somewhere I want to go.”

He seeks out Byeongkwan and Sehyoon, who lean against the door of the throne room. When they approach, the two are deeply ingrained in a quiet argument. It’s only when Sehyoon catches Seonghwa’s eye over Byeonkwan’s shoulder that the two notice them. The Wisp clears his throat softly. “Hello, your highnesses, is everything alright?” Seonghwa nods.

“I was wondering if it would be alright to take Hongjoong to his family’s graves.” He feels quite like a child asking permission to stay the night at a friend’s house. “I feel as though he could use a break.” Hongjoong’s chest warms with deep love for the man beside him. Byeongkwan shares an odd look with Sehyoon as the two consider the request. 

Finally, Byeongkwan sighs. “Of course, sire.” He looks around the expanse of the room before his gaze lands on the other three guards in an intense round of some raunchy card game Chan brought back from the human realm. “Junhee!” Their leader lifts his head swiftly, eyes locking onto the four across the room. Slowly, he places his hand of cards onto the table and stands. 

As he begins his trek across the room, he whirls on Donghun who has already begun to reach for the discarded pile. “Don’t you dare look at my cards, you filthy Selkie.” Donghun squawks in indignation.

“He called me filthy,” he carps at Chan. The human only shrugs.

“You are filthy.” Chan says. Donghun babbles something incoherently as the two continue to bicker in the distance. As Junhee approaches, he looks to be a minute away from shutting himself in a broom closet alone. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and comes to a stop in front of the group.

“What can I do for you, little prince?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes at the nickname. He could already sense the eventual alteration that Jun will one day make to the name; _little king_. Chuckling, Byeongkwan cocks his head toward Seonghwa.

“Actually, Prince Seonghwa has a request. Would you mind guiding them to the King and Queen’s resting place?” The Sprite smiles softly as he regards Seonghwa with unspoken appreciation. “He feels that it is time to properly introduce himself.” Seonghwa flushes bright at the truth being brought to light. Again, Hongjoong’s heart pounds in his chest with pride. The delicate care that Seonghwa shows without suffocating him is observant. Seonghwa bows to the knight, drawing an immediate gasp from the group. “Your highness, you shouldn’t-”

“And why not?” Seonghwa smiles widely at the men before him. “Why am I forbidden to show my thanks simply because we hold different titles? We are all living creatures.” Junhee hums his thanks. Seonghwa could command an army filled with bloodlust, but just as easily make delicate roses bloom in the most vivid hues with just a glance. “All of you have done more for Hongjoong over the years than you seem to give yourselves credit for. For that alone, I own you so much.” 

Hongjoong tugs on a loose thread of his tunic. It snaps from the fabric quickly and he rolls it between his fingers until it balls up. Carefully, he drops it and watches the way its soft body bounces along the floor. Anything that will take his mind off of the bizarre competition of honor that is happening between the men before him. It is not until the deafening silence sets it that he realizes they were waiting for him to respond to an unheard question. “Sorry, repeat that?” His voice cracks in embarrassment. 

Jun laughs, “Are you ready to go to the graves?” Hongjoong nods. As the group of three departs, he can still hear Donghun arguing quietly with Chan. Something about the domestic conversation sparks curiosity in him. Especially when he notices the way Jun’s gaze lingers on the two men. _Interesting_.

✧ ✧ ✧

Junhee waits at the opening of the clearing; just as so many have before him. The trees whisper gently as their leaves dance in the subtle breeze. Hongjoong’s hand finds the warmth of Seonghwa’s, their fingers twine together like the ivy that covers his parents’ graves. It is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. Yet, some portion of Hongjoong fumbles with the expectation. The Phouka notices his reluctance almost immediately. 

He speaks quietly, as though afraid of startling Hongjoong, “Love?” The Elf meets his gaze. Tenderly, he squeezes the other man’s hand. “Are you alright?” Hongjoong nods. 

“I just…” His sentence filters off into silence. With another assuring squeeze from Seonghwa, he pushes on. “Do you think this is the last time I will be able to speak to them? You know, before…”

Seonghwa’s lips pull into a tight frown. Before the coronation; before the prophecy has a chance to root itself into their reality, as if it had not already done so. Seonghwa urges him forward. Each step feels like trying to tug iron through waist-deep water. “My dearest,” The two finally kneel before the graves. “They are with you always. A grave is not a place for the spirit of the deceased.” His hand presses gently against Hongjoong’s chest; directly above his heart. “It is a resting place for those they left behind. Somewhere that you know to be connected to them in some way or another. We rest our minds before graves and spill our deepest thoughts. However,” He chews his bottom lip as he speaks; afraid of treading into unfamiliar territory. “They are not tied down here. They are with you. Always.” Hongjoong does not feel the hot tears roll down his cheeks until Seonghwa’s thumbs are brushing them away.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, shoving his face into the linen shoulder of Seonghwa’s tunic. This time, the silence is not deafening. Instead, it washes over them like ocean tides. Calming and atmospheric, Hongjoong nearly forgets the future ahead of them as he pulls away from his fiance. He turns to the two stones before them, his hands buried deep in the grass, and kneels. “I’m home, you guys.” 

The time passes slowly. He pours out his heart to his parents for the first time in weeks. Even with Junhee in earshot and Seonghwa next to him, he professes his fears with unabashed confidence. Even as he sobs how desperately he wishes they were present– that they would be there to pass off the crowns to the two of them– he knows that it is too large of a bounty to ask for. It is impossible. However, even that knowledge does not make the pain any more bearable. 

Even as Seonghwa laughs to the air, telling his father what a catch Hongjoong is, the pain does not falter. It simply allows something stronger to come forth. The warm butterflies in his stomach as he watches the animated way his fiance smiles and recounts all of the stupid mistakes Hongjoong made while cooking breakfast. Even as Seonghwa thanks them for raising Hongjoong and not casting him aside. Even as Seonghwa cradles him in his arms as he sobs one last time about Maddox’s disappearance. He feels love. All-consuming, fluttering love.

As they go to stand, Seonghwa stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. The Phouka radiates anxious energy as he stares at his feet. Hongjoong frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Seonghwa speaks slowly. “How did your parents die, Joong?” Hongjoong flounders for a moment. He thought everyone in the neighboring kingdoms knew. Shaking off the shock, he runs a hand down Seonghwa’s cheek with a reassuring smile. 

“I had no idea that you were never informed. I thought it was common knowledge, love.” Hongjoong pulls his hand away and tucks it into his own pocket. “They were poisoned.” Seonghwa’s aqua eyes widen. Panic flashes through them quickly, followed by confusion.

“By who?” The question comes out so quietly, Hongjoong finds himself leaning in to hear the other man. Suddenly, he realizes what Seonghwa is asking. 

“A maid. My father did not return her affections.” He twists a ball of lint that was not removed from the pocket properly. “She meant for the wine to be only served to my mother. Instead, my father drank it first as a joke. He had a tendency during family meals to steal food and drink from others, so it was only natural.

The maid was new, however, and had no idea that the King was such a character. My mother had snatched the glass back quickly to drink it herself. We did not realize what had happened until it was too late.” Tears brim once again at the edges of his blurry vision. “Once we understood what was happening, everything fell into chaos. I’ll never forget the looks on their faces as we were pushed from the room.” He offers Seonghwa a small, sad smile. “They were so full of love. Even until the very end, they were so full of love, Hwa.” Seonghwa pulls him into a bone-crushing embrace. His own frame shakes emotionally as the two cling to each other for dear life.

As they walk back to the castle and towards the setting sun, Hongjoong can see the dark silhouettes of ten other men at the end of the Eternity Bridge. The golden light casts over them like golden dust as Hongjoong breaks out into a run, Seonghwa following at his heels. He does not stop himself as he throws his body into the waiting arms of a certain Aos Si.

“Hey, you.” Yeosang’s voice is deep and full of warmth as Hongjoong hugs him tightly. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” Jongho stands to his side, a bright smile on his face. 

“Too long.” 

Towards the edge of the group, Mingi laughs. “It has hardly been three months, you saps.” Immediately, Hongjoong throws himself at the Cat Sith who giggles harder. “But, god, it’s been too long.” Hongjoong glances around the Fae’s tall frame to see Seonghwa pull Yunho into a similar embrace. Yunho affectionately ruffles the Phouka’s hair, earning a cute pout from the older, before turning to Hongjoong. He offers a low bow.

“Prince Joongie,” the nickname rolls off his tongue with a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up.” 

“I’m older than you, dork.” In the setting sun, Yunho glows ethereally. Slowly, he lifts his left hand to reveal a glittering gold band with a small set of emeralds in the center. “Well, I’ll be damned. Seems like the world is about to have an influx of kings.” Mingi’s tail swishes behind him happily, trying to match the pace of his _fiance’s_. To think the two of them would actually take the plunge as well. “I had a weird feeling that you guys were going to tiptoe around marriage for years.” Yunho barks out a laugh as Mingi schools his face into fake-offense. 

“We almost did. However, the Queen of Vertvale had other ideas.”

“What he means to say,” Yunho interrupts, “is that my mother cornered him the moment I brought his back to the kingdom as my boyfriend.” 

Mingi flashes a stunning smile. “Well, what can I say? She was very persuasive.”

Yunho rolls his eyes and gags. “She told you that she had a thing for Cat Sith’s in her younger days and was glad one of her sons had good taste.” Mingi presses a kiss to the other man’s cheek. “You just went where you would get permanent compliments.” 

Across the group, San smirks. “Is that a sin?” His dimples peek out immediately. “Compliments are the best way to a man’s heart.” Wooyoung pokes his husband’s exposed stomach. Hongjoong notices only now that the man stole one of his mesh crop tops from his wardrobe. 

“Yah! Where did you get that?” As he starts forward, he watches San cackle and take off in the direction of the castle. “San, get back here! When did you go into my room?” The soon-to-be king tears after the other man while the others chuckle boisterously in the distance. No matter what storm the future holds, the present is sunny and full of love.

✧ ✧ ✧

_The world does not burn before him. Instead, he watches from a great distance as the crown is set upon red-waves. Beside him, his lover smiles calmly. The world does not burn before him. Even as an iron blade pierces the soft flesh of his stomach and leaks poison; slowly, but surely. The skin around the wound hisses at the contact. It pops and sizzles like flames in an open fire. No Fae can wield an iron sword. Not without reaping their own death in the process._

_The warrior is not Fae. His blonde hair is pulled into a long braid and strands escape from the confinement. They spill over his forehead and rounded, human ears, like birds seeking flight. Behind him, Maddox stands; mouth wide in a frozen scream. Eyes wide with desperation. The crowd does not flinch. And for once, the world does not burn._

_“Wait for me.”_

✧ ✧ ✧

Morning dew twinkles on the fields and flowers like thousands of liquid constellations. Warmth radiates from the mug of tea in Hongjoong’s palm like a grounding meditation as he stands on the balcony of his room. From here, he can see the world that he wishes to protect with every ounce of his being. Despite the horrifying nature of his dream, he feels no fear. Instead, he feels a renewed determination. To change fate. To challenge order. To survive. For the sake of everyone, he will guarantee their survival. 

He does not hear Seonghwa’s bare footsteps as he comes up behind him. Rather, he starts slightly as the older man loops his arms around his waist and pulls him close. “You have my shirt.” Seonghwa nibbles at the lobe of his ear as he speaks. “It looks good on you.” Even as he spins Hongjoong around to face him, his fiance holds onto his cup of tea with a tight grip. He had picked up the first shirt his hands found and thrown it on so he could go ask for the staff to deliver the warm drinks. He knew what he must have looked like wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers and a long white button-up that came down to his thighs. He had purposely left the top few buttons undone, but he did not realize how much of his skin was on show until Donghun let out a loud laugh. It did not take him long to bolt back into his room. 

“There’s tea on the coffee table for you.” Hongjoong chuckles as he pushes the other man away from where he has been suckling on his neck. “Don’t make any more marks, Hwa.” When he glances at his lover, the man stares back in surprise.

“Ever again?” His deep voice comes out innocent. With his aqua eyes wide, he looks like a scolded child. At least, until Hongjoong smirks. 

“Until tonight. We’re going to be in front of the entire kingdom and diplomats. Do they really need to know what the newest royals get up to in their free time?” Hongjoong’s feet carry him to their wardrobe as Seonghwa fiddles with the hot water on the table. 

Seonghwa’s tone is pouty and Hongjoong imagines that he wears an identical expression. “I mean, I’m not against them knowing.” When Hongjoong throws a glance over his shoulder, the other man sips his tea as though he did not speak. _Flirt_. “If they do not know today, then they certainly will tomorrow.” Hongjoong feels the heat rush over his body as Seonghwa shamelessly drops lines like that. He tugs a silk blouse on over his head, knowing that it will just be removed when the staff prepare him for the ceremony. 

As he does the last button on his high-waisted slacks, he turns to see Seonghwa sit down softly on the loveseat. “Is everything alright, dear?” He wanders to his lover’s side and throws his weight onto the cushions. Seonghwa nods, his gaze distance. “Are you certain?”

The man pauses, his hands folded neatly in his lap, and sighs. “I just can’t believe the day is finally here. It has not even been that long since we reconnected, but…”

“A promise is a promise.” Hongjoong smiles sweetly, his own palm resting over the Phouka’s. “I’ll have you know, I keep mine.” He presses a kiss to his soon-to-be husband’s lips. Seonghwa reciprocates and grins into the connection. 

“Obviously,” He pulls away gently. “I do as well.” The two stare at each other for a few moments. The quiet is not unwelcome, especially as a knock sounds at the bedroom door only seconds before an over-excited Asrai flings it open. 

“You better be decent!” Wooyoung yells, his boots pattering against the tiling like heavy rain. He spins to a stop in front of the couple just as Hongjoong dips his head against his lover’s shoulder. “Well, one of you is.” His gaze travels over Seonghwa’s bare torso. “You own shirts, right? I swear I've seen you wear them before.”

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong groans; his head already aching. “It’s still early.” The Fae laughs loudly as he wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s midsection and pulls him from the other man’s embrace. Wooyoung lifts him easily, dangling Hongjoong like a helpless ragdoll, and spins him. As they twirl, the Elf fights every urge he has to smack his dearest friend. Even as his feet reconnect with the floor, the desire is strong. 

“It’s your wedding day!” _And the possible end of Avalon_ . What else is new? The Asrai grins at him as tears start to well up in his eyes. “Fuck, Joong, it’s your wedding day.” His face turns red and splotchy as he fights back the urge to cry. Hongjoong, his heart fluttering wildly, pulls the other man into a tight hug. “ _Shit_.”

Hongjoong laughs wetly into the other’s shoulder. Tears drip onto the fabric quietly. His own smile falters as he thinks back on their friendship over their years. Every step of the way, Wooyoung has supported him in his own dramatic style. From childhood to adulthood, the two have walked hand in hand. Even now, as Wooyoung assumes the position to walk Hongjoong down the aisle in place of his father, their bond has carried them through everything. The Elf coughs lightly, trying to clear his throat.

“It’s my wedding day, Woo.” The words come out broken. A rippling crack down the center of ‘wedding’, but instead of embarrassment, Hongjoong feels the burn of determination spur to life in his chest. He knows what he must do to protect the others. “I’ve treasured our friendship more than you will ever know.” Wooyoung chuckles softly, a snotty sniffle leaving his nose. 

“Me, as well, Joong,” He says. “I would have never made it without you pushing me forward.” The Asrai pulls away. Gentle fingers run through his hair. “I’ll always have your back. And now, we have a few more bumbling idiots to help me with that.” Laughter echoes through the room and Hongjoong’s head flies up in alert. Hongjoong did not see their group of friends in the doorway. Each one wears a beautiful smile. For once, he allows himself to bask in wonder at the ragtag group of Fae that had been brought together from a stupid prophecy. Even Jongho, whose expression is schooled into something unreadable, offers him a sympathetic grin; as though sensing Hongjoong’s train of thought. Yunho, however, breaks the moment by whirling himself into the room with Mingi and apprehending Seonghwa by each arm. 

The Cu Sith pulls the other man into a standing position and pushes him towards the door. “Okay, big guy, it’s time for us to take our leave.” He nods at Jongho who bows slightly to the group. Seonghwa bumbles through his words as he tries to find something to say. 

His mouth is drawn into a small ‘o’ as they begin to whisk him out of the room. Before he is completely out of sight, he calls out to Hongjoong. “I love you! I’ll see you soon.” With that, his fiance is being pulled down the hall towards a different room for wedding prep. Hongjoong wishes quietly that he would have had more privacy with the other man before they stole him away. The next time he will see Seonghwa, he will be approaching him from one end of the throne room. As Hongjoong looks at the group left with him, he is filled with soft love. The guards, Yeosang, Woooyoung, and San, wear similar expressions of content joy. Donghun and Byeongkwan have been tasked with staying close to Seonghwa’s group prior to the ceremony. It is only when Donghun tugs him into a tight hug that Hongjoong lets the tears flow freely.

The Selkie sighs into his hair. “I’m proud of you, Joongie. You know the plan.” The man pulls back just enough to meet Hongjoong’s watery gaze. To his right side, Chan fiddles with one of many medals hanging from his belt. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.” Hongjoong laughs.

“I don’t think Chan is going to let me do anything stupid.” Chan nods, his gaze flickering between the group before him. The only ones who know the truth of what will happen. The goal is simple, set the crown on Hongjoong’s head before all hell breaks loose. Chan is to take on the glamour of the wedding officiator in order to have close access to both the crown and Hongjoong. So long as Hongjoong can be crowned and made the ruler of Avalon prior to the attack, the land will heal him. It all depends on how quickly they can act. 

Donghun hugs him one last time before handing him off to Byeongkwan. The Sprite does not speak. Instead, he smiles sadly and pulls Hongjoong against his shoulder. He can hear the subtle pouding of the man’s heart. Byeongkwan kisses the top of his head, breathing in deeply, and finally whispers, “Stay alive, Joong.” He lets go and backs up until he is more than an arm’s length away. “You ready?” He asks Donghun. As the two leave, he tosses a look over his shoulder. His words go unspoken, but Hongjoong knows him well enough to know what he means. _I mean it._

✧ ✧ ✧

 _The hallway outside of the throne room buzzes with the excitement of those inside._ Hongjoong can feel it all the way out here. His heart throws itself against his ribs. A caged bird wishing to fly. He thinks of Seonghwa. Seonghwa who stands tall in the face of an adversary and smiles under pressure. Seonghwa who talks in his sleep and drinks chamomile tea to calm his spirits. His Seonghwa. 

Beside him, Wooyoung’s jitters radiate through his skin. The Seelie’s foot taps the rug covered tile in a wild, fast-paced beat. Hongjoong can only handle it for so long before his hand is resting on the man’s arm. “Wooyoung,” he mumbles. “I’m begging you, relax.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you acting as though you’re the one getting married?” Hongjoong cannot wipe the smile from his face. It has been an almost permanent expression for the last few days. The Asrai stares through him. 

By the time Wooyoung responds, his voice is soft. “I trust you. I will always trust you, but…” He considers his words. “You need to trust us too.”

Hongjoong frowns. “Of course, I trust you, Woo.”

Wooyoung shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. I know you trust me; that you trust everyone in the group. I just need you to understand that we aren’t going to let you shoulder all of the weight here, Joong.” 

“I don’t understand-” It is then that the wedding march begins. The melody leeches into the air; lace curtains billowing in the breeze. “Promise me, you’re going to follow the plan.”

Wooyoung nods. “Of course, I’m going to follow the plan.” Ahead of them, he can hardly make out Seonghwa’s silhouette as he is led into the throne room first. His father holds his elbow and seems to cry softly. “I just can't promise that _everyone_ is following the same plan.” Their friends file in one by one. As Wooyoung takes a step to guide Hongjoong forward, he sighs. “We love you, Joong.” Hongjoong cannot retort as they enter the room. At the front, Seonghwa stands with the others. The Elf cannot stop himself from gasping loudly at the sight.

He wears a tight black turtleneck that seems to be missing its sleeves. His trousers are pleated slightly at the top with a thick silk belt tied around them. Silver chains and emblems hang around his neck and torso like makeshift armor. A single shouldered mantle cape hangs over his right arm, pulled together at the neck by a delicate sapphire clasp. The wardrobe is stunning, but does not compare to his face as Hongjoong comes into view. His aqua eyes widen exponentially. Hongjoong’s gaze moves upward, taking in the dark hair braided around his horns and silver chains that wrap along the bone; from their points dangle droplets of sapphire. As he gapes at the Elf, a strand of hair flops against his cheek. 

Hongjoong hardly looked at his reflection. Every attempt left him in droopy tears that would not stop rolling. He had opted for a pair of white, velvet pants embroidered with golden leaves up the sides. Wrapped around his neck is a white, sheer scarf that forms the long train of his cloak behind him. From the hood, dozens of miniscule emeralds and rubies twinkle above his eyes. His makeup is subtle, done in browns, golds, and reds. His white, lace tunic has been embroidered with soft golden apple blossoms. They mimic the design cast from the door of his private study. Golden bangles in the form of two snakes wrap along his forearms. Each lace piece he wears was altered from his mother’s wedding dress and the golden bangles cast from his father’s armor. The thought of repurposing his parent’s belongings pulls at his heart strings. It only takes that single glance at Seonghwa for his eyes to fill again with unshed tears. The moment Seonghwa loses his composure, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he cries softly, Hongjoong does as well. They make a spectacular pair. Wooyoung tries to calm him quietly, offering a soft, “Don’t forget who the first man that ever kissed you was” with a wink.

“It certainly wasn’t you,” Hongjoong chuckles with a sniffle. As Wooyoung lets him walk the rest of the way alone, he gives him a gentle nudge before assuming his position as Hongjoong’s best man. The tears do not stop rolling. Even as the officiator– Chan in glamour– guides them through their vows, Hongjoong blubbers in front of the entire kingdom. Even as he whispers, “I do,” his tears are salty against Seonghwa’s lips. Even as his senses are filled with lemon and char. 

Chan uses that moment to set the heavy, Avalonian crown on his head. Around him, the crowd claps loudly. Their friends cheer boisterously and begin to run towards him. But suddenly, the flesh of his stomach burns. He glances at Seonghwa, whose expression is somewhere between terrified and dumbfounded. As he twists to see what his _husband_ is staring at, he feels the blade deep within his abdomen. A single glance down shows the tile of the throne room bathing in red iron. From within his white tunic, the one he so proudly donned, blooms a crimson rose. Blood. 

Behind him, a human stands with his head cocked far to the side. In the distance, his own brother watches with a look of horror. The human smiles wickedly and Hongjoong’s vision begins to blur. His voice is deep and Hongjoong immediately recognizes it from his dreams. Maddox never tried to contact him. As he feels his knees strike the floor, the man leans down to pull his head up by his hair.

“It seems our invitation was lost in the mail.” He uses his other hand to twist the blade protruding from the King’s stomach. “Simple mistake, I understand.” He tightens his grip on the Elf’s hair. “I truly hate meeting my in-laws this way, you know, Hongjoong. But Maddox insisted we come home for a visit. Imagine his shock when he learned his own brother was getting married off and he would be ascending to the throne.” The man pulls the blade from his flesh, the soiled tip held steadily against his delicate throat. “How rude of me. It is wonderful to finally meet you. Maddox talks so fondly of his baby brother, Joongie. I had to just come see for myself.” His smile tinges with something bitter. 

In the distance, he feels the weight of Seonghwa’s gaze, but cannot turn to see him. Moving only his eyes, Hongjoong notices that the room has been frozen in place. It is as though time has come to a halt. It is silent; save for the sound of Hongjoong’s blood as it drips into a crimson pool beneath him. Even Maddox stands stone-still. His mouth open in a scream of terror. This was not his plan. Hongjoong cannot stop the wave of relief that floods over him. His brother did not do this; his goal was not to betray his own kind. 

The human once again tugs on the red-strands, gaze flickering between Hongjoong and the knife at his neck. “Ah-ha, you need to pay attention to me, Joongie. It’s very impolite to stare. While I do not demand your respect, I would like to request it.” His eyes wander back to the man before him. “As I was saying, it’s nice to meet you, baby brother. I’m Maddox’s husband, Eden. You and I need to have a talk.”

Hongjoong watches the ground rush up at him as his body finally lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I am so blessed to have such wonderful readers. This chapter is a doozy, but I could not bring myself to split it into two. This is the home stretch. There will be a few more heavy chapters, but none this long. Thank you for sticking around until now. This fic will be over by the first week of April. 
> 
> As always, find me on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Cheers!


	9. A Sadness Runs Through Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence!

> _ “Time and again boys are raised to be men.  _
> 
> _ Impatient they start, fearful at the end.  _
> 
> _ But here was a man mourning tomorrow.  _
> 
> _ He drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.  _
> 
> _ He could not break surface tension.  _
> 
> _ He looked in the wrong place for redemption.  _
> 
> _ Don't look at me with those eyes. _
> 
> _ I tried to unheave the ties.  _
> 
> _ Turn back the time that drew him.  _
> 
> _ But he couldn't be saved. A sadness runs through him.” _
> 
> **_A Sadness Runs Through Him_ ** _ \- The Hoosiers _

* * *

_ Cold.  _ The surface that Hongjoong’s leans against is cold. Its chill bites into his spine; taking one chunk after another. Yet, his body burns. Every attempt to settle his muscles sends an electrifying jolt of agony through him. A groan escapes his throat involuntarily as he tries to adjust to whatever position his body is in. Something shuffles next to him. It breathes hotly against his face as it takes in his features.

“Joongie?” The voice is deep, but unmistakable. As Hongjoong opens his eyes, the being shifts backwards onto its heels. In front of him kneels a bloody Maddox. His once cropped hair is now styled in messy, chin-length waves. His sharp cheekbones mirror Hongjoong’s own. He is Maddox until he is not. Finally able to get a good look at the man, he sees an image that makes his stomach roll violently. His ears, once long and pointed like Hongjoong’s own, have been surgically altered to resemble that of a human’s. The sight makes Hongjoong dry-heave as his body scrambles for purchase. 

“What the fuck did you do to yourself?” His voice is not his own. It is raspy and broken. Rather than the green apples that Seonghwa so lovingly compared him to, he sounds like shattered glass pulled along concrete. Maddox stares back, his brown eyes full of sadness. Slowly, he brings a hand up to the side of his head; blocking the sight. 

“You wouldn’t understand, Hongjoong.”

He wants to scream. He wants to throw his brother against the wall of– he notices that they are in the private study. “How did we get here?” He lowers his voice. 

“Eden carried you here. He’s in the throne room right now.” The throne room. The wedding. His friends.  _ Seonghwa _ . Everything hits him at once and his body once again tries to empty its contents. The wound in his stomach lights up like a forest fire with the movement. He knows that a quick glance at its edges would prove the blade was made of iron.  _ Fucking bastard _ .

Hongjoong tries to stand, his knees wobbling miserably with the effort, but collapses back to the ground like a newborn fawn. “Where’s my husband, Maddox?” The Elf before him stays silent and twists a stray curl around his finger.  _ “Maddox, where the fuck is my husband?”  _ He grinds out. A hand comes up to wrap around his brother’s throat as Maddox gives him a doe-eyed stare. 

“The throne room.” With the man that stabbed him. That was supposed to have his head on a pike. Why was Jongho’s vision wrong? “Eden is just making sure they won’t disturb us.”

Hongjoong pushes the other with all of the strength he can muster. Apparently, Maddox does not expect it as his body slams into the wall behind him. Hongjoong scrambles to straddle the man, his arm pressed tightly against his throat. He does not want to hurt his own brother, but if that is what it takes, he will do anything. 

“Take me to him.”

Maddox coughs. “I can’t do that.” The Elf squirms under his weight. Even in Hongjoong’s weakened state, he is still stronger than the beast he wrestles with. 

“Do you think I’m asking?” It is only seconds before Maddox’s form flickers out of existence and reappears across the room. Hongjoong distantly remembers bragging to the others about his brother’s teleportation.  _ He almost surpassed Sehyoon _ . Maddox glowers down at him, his eyes flashing with a wicked threat.

“I think you should learn to ask for things, baby brother.” Maddox leans down to pull Hongjoong by the collar of his tunic. Like a ragdoll, he feels his body slam into the velvet loveseat. Thoughts of his first time with Seonghwa suddenly tainted by the way Maddox stares at him. As though he is no more than a bug on the bottom of his boot. “Can you just behave? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He fucking  _ stabbed _ me, Maddox!” Hongjoong bellows. Every time he speaks, he feels himself grow lightheaded. “You saw him do it!” The wound leaks hot, sticky crimson as he thrashes on the couch.  _ Fuck _ . Maddox rolls his eyes.

“You’ve had worse.”

“I honestly can say,” Hongjoong coughs, “that I have not had worse.” His brother sits gently on the edge of the couch. For a brief moment, Hongjoong can see the person he once was. His brown eyes flood with worry again as he reaches out to lift the torn fabric of the king’s tunic. Hongjoong does not have the energy to fight back and lets him pull the wet material away from his skin.

“It’ll probably need stitches, unless one of the healers is available.” Maddox actually sounds concerned. “Is Chan still around?” Hongjoong frowns. Slowly, he nods. “Good. Eden will probably bring him back here.” Hongjoong remembers what Jongho prophesied as Eden’s goal. He sought revenge for the human children stolen away by the Fae. Fae not of Hongjoong’s kingdom, of course, but still his kind. Chan was one of those children. During the Victorian era, his parents bargained with Unseelie rogues. They gave away their first-born child for unrivaled artistic ability. Chan was a newborn, replaced by a Faery changeling, and brought to the  Tír na nÓg. When asked if he wanted to return to the human world, he denied. Since then, he travelled between realms to bring news and supplies. Maddox seems to watch Hongjoong put the pieces together. 

“He will not hurt you again, Hongjoong. As long as you listen to him,” His brother sighs. “It will all be fine.”

“I want to see Seonghwa.” Maddox shakes his head. Dark curls bouncing with the action, Hongjoong resists the urge to headbutt his chin. The idea exhausts him. “I want to see my husband, Maddox, please.”

Maddox runs a hand through those stupid waves. “Buddy, you can’t. Not yet.” He pulls his knees to his chest and tucks his head between them. An action so familiar to Hongjoong, his heart aches. “Eden will be back soon. He’ll explain everything.”

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

“You will want to.” Hongjoong startles at the sudden intrusion. In the doorway, Eden stands with a bound Chan. The changeling’s arms have been pulled behind his back and tied together with thick cording. Hongjoong immediately recognizes it as one of the velvet curtain pulleys his mother painstakingly hung in the throne room. What Hongjoong does not expect is the way Eden gingerly guides Chan to one of the armchairs. He carefully helps him settle in the seat before untying the binds. The sorcerer rubs at his sore wrists, brows furrowed. Only then does he notice Hongjoong on the couch. 

“Joong!” Chan stumbles over to him. His arms wrap tightly around the Elf’s neck until Hongjoong hisses in pain. Chan immediately releases him to rip the tunic from his body. So much for the artisanal design. “ _ Fuck _ . You bastard!” He whirls on Eden who throws his hands up in a sign of surrender. Immediately, Chan’s hands emanate a soft green glow as he ghosts his touch over the abdominal wound. Hongjoong cannot bring himself to look at the way it festers and pops beneath the healing light. “God, Joong, it’s okay. Everyone is okay. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I was so scared. You were there and then suddenly you just–” He chokes slightly as tears brim in his eyes. “You were just gone.”

Hongjoong grunts softly and shuts his eyes. It’s impossible to talk as the flesh knits itself back together. It will scar, if he manages to get out of this situation alive. Behind them, Eden paces the room. Hongjoong can hear each heavy step he takes as it echoes. 

“Hongjoong, I need you to understand, I do not want to hurt you.” Eden speaks softly, as though afraid of tampering with a wild animal. The Elf growls in response. A single eye cracks open to glare at the human.

“Unsurprisingly, you fucked that goal up.” He gasps in agony as Chan finally pulls the last bits of his skin together. Beneath the sorcerer’s glowing hands is a fresh, pink incision scar. As Chan’s finger traces the edges softly to check for defects, Hongjoong feels the sensitive skin twinge. 

Eden sputters. He runs a hand through his hair slowly as Chan helps Hongjoong into a sitting position. Even from a distance, the Elf can see the glittering wedding ring neatly placed on his finger. Maddox wears a matching one, confirming that the two are indeed married. Hongjoong feels his stomach roll violently again as he dry heaves over the edge of the couch. 

“You left me no choice.” 

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Hongjoong spits back venomously. Chan places an arm around the Elf’s shoulders, positioning himself between the King and the other two men. “If you remember correctly, your blade was in my ribs before anyone even knew you were there.”

Eden glowers back at him. “You can thank your brother for that stealthy entrance.”

Hongjoong barks out a bitter laughs. “I could thank Maddox for a lot of things right now.” He casts a glare towards the other Elf’s hunched form. His dark hair mussed from exhaustion, his brother looks absolutely worse for wear. “If you want to speak to me, then do it. However, the moment I can get my hands on a blade, I am severing your putrid skull from your body.” He feels Chan tense up beside him.

“For God’s sake, you brat, we have not touched anyone, but you! Ask your human.” Hongjoong’s gaze flickers to Chan. The man nods in confirmation.

“They really did not hurt anyone, Joong. Seonghwa was tied up and unconscious when they pulled me out of there.”

Hongjoong’s heart stops. “Why was he unconscious?” 

“Everyone is.” Chan whispers. “I was too. For a few moments, we saw that you were gone. Then suddenly, the world went dark. Before Eden brought me here, I was reliving a reel of my memories.”

Eden slumps against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, his hands tearing through his blonde hair. “We needed to make a grand entrance, Hongjoong. I needed to make the other kingdoms fear me.”

“Why?” Hongjoong’s tongue is heavy in his mouth. The room feels like it is 100°. “Why should they fear you?”

“Because humans fear us, Joong.” Finally Maddox speaks. “There are thousands of myths about Fae stealing children. Spiriting away adults. Killing for pleasure and dipping their caps in the blood.”  _ Some Fae do that, though, _ Hongjoong thinks bitterly. “And it is the truth. But so many humans do not believe the ones that have been struck by such tragedy.”

Eden sighs. “My family was ostracized when my younger brother was stolen. He fell asleep in a ring of mushrooms and his dreams called upon the Unseelie. We only knew what had happened when he stumbled home thirteen years later looking as though he had not aged a day.” His hair flops softly into his face. “Our story has a happy ending. But how do you explain to others that do not believe you where your son has been? Why he has not changed? My parents were driven into a new city to start a separate life far from the Fae. So many children are lost though, Hongjoong. I need you to help me put a stop to it.”

Hongjoong stares back dumbfounded. Even as Maddox tries to urge a response. “You expect me to help you?” He breathes heavily, the remaining itch of the wound tugging painfully. “I’ll tell you exactly what I think. Nothing you say is going to get us anywhere until you bring my family into this room.” Eden stares back at him, his eyes wide. “I refuse to do a single thing until I see them.”

“Are you really in the right place to be bargaining with us?”

“I guarantee,” Hongjoong begins, his voice unwavering. “That I am the best damn bet you have at getting what you want. Make this easy for all of us, Eden,” He looks to his brother whose knee bounces up and down wildly. “Maddox.” Maddox nods slowly, agreeing with his terms; much to Eden’s dismay.

“I suppose we can work with that.” He turns on his heel and throws open the door. As he disappears, Hongjoong whirls on Maddox. His eyes flash with burning fury.

“How can he come and go as he pleases? Dad set up this room so only we could enter.”

Maddox chews the chapped skin of his lip. Fangs dragging softly along the delicate flesh. “I dismantled the charm.” Hongjoong watches as his brother’s hands fidget. “It makes things a lot easier.” Hongjoong feels his heart drop. He feels it now, their father’s magic no longer buzzes through the warm air.

Tears sting the corners of his eyes at the loss. “That was not a choice for you to make.” He cringes at the way the salt minges with his tongue. “Part of him was still alive in this room, Maddox. Why would you kill it?” The man before him trembles slightly. 

“I had to, Joong. The humans need help–”

“I needed your help!” Hongjoong barks, a fist clenching tightly in his lap. “You left. I had to take care of the kingdom without you. I mourned for you.” Maddox does not respond. Instead, he pushes the heels of his palms against his eyes and bobs his head. They fall into deep silence as minutes tick by. Hongjoong does not tear his gaze from the clock, watching its hands trace through thirty minutes. 

Beside him, Chan pulls Hongjoong against him. The changeling’s chest rises and falls quickly with fear, but the steady drumming of his heartbeat is enough to keep the king grounded. Even as guttural howling erupts in the hallway, the rhythm is enough for him to remember to breathe. The first person thrown into the room– roughly– is Yunho. The Cu Sith slams against a nearby bookshelf as he loses his balance spectacularly and hits the floor. Hongjoong struggles to stand, but not before the other Fae’s fiance flies into the room in a red-headed blur. The patch over his eye has been removed, and for the first time, Hongjoong sees the long scar that runs from the bottom of his brow to the top of his cheek bone. 

“Yunho!” Mingi flops down next to him. He desperately wiggles, trying to free his arms from the binds that Eden must have tied them in, before slumping against his fiance. His tail whips viciously around him. Beneath him, Yunho groans quietly. “Are you alright?”

“‘M fine, dearest. Thank you.” Yunho nuzzles into Mingi’s touch. His eyes close gently until the next body is tossed in alongside them. San’s form skitters across the floor, his skin rubbing the tile with a horrid squeak. He appears to be unconscious, even as Wooyoung tears in after him and throws himself onto the floor; his body covering his husband’s. He pants quietly, a growl pinned in his throat, and pays no notice to the other’s already in the room as he glowers at Eden’s shadow. Hongjoong realizes immediately that Wooyoung was the one screaming in the hall. 

“Holy  _ fuck _ .” Chan whispers beside him. 

This time, Jongho stumbles through the doorway on his own, Donghun, Jun, and Byeongkwan only a step behind him. It is not until Yeosang is pushed through the door frame that anyone acknowledges Hongjoong in the corner. Yeosang’s gaze immediately locks onto his and a soft breath passes between them before the man is running at him. He comes to a stop directly in front of the Elf before dropping to his knees. 

“You’re okay.” Tears spill down the Aos Si’s cheeks as he stares up at him. “God, you’re okay.” His forehead rests on Hongjoong’s thigh as he sobs softly into the fabric of his ruined pants. Hongjoong cannot bring himself to speak. Instead, he runs his fingers through the man’s blonde hair softly. Yeosang moves from the floor to curl up next to Hongjoong on the couch as Chan works quietly on undoing the man’s binds. Sehyoon appears beside Byeongkwan, whispering quietly while the Sprite presses a kiss to his temple, and Hongjooong wonders briefly when he came in. A dull click draws the room’s attention. As the door finally closes behind Eden, Hongjoong is able to look up. 

In the human’s grasp, Seonghwa dangles helplessly. His black hair tousled beyond belief, it covers most of his face as Eden drops him before the King. Hongjoong does not fight the scream that rips from his throat as he flings himself to the floor. “Seonghwa!” He turns to Eden. “What did you do to him?”

The man stares back apathetically. “He’s just knocked out.” Hongjoong’s stomach flips painfully. He pushes Seonghwa’s hair back until he can see his husband’s closed eyes. His long lashes brush his cheeks ethereally. 

“You said you didn’t touch them!” His voice reaches an impossible octave. Eden frowns and leans against the arm of the couch. Maddox carefully intertwines their fingers. It would be endearing if the situation was not what it is. 

“I said that before your  _ beast _ tried to slice my throat open.” Hongjoong looks to the man’s neck where a thin red line smudges. “I released the spell that had them in a synthetic sleep, but the last thing I expected was to be tag-teamed.” He casts a bitter glance towards San’s unconscious form. “They’ll wake up soon enough.” Hongjoong bites back the fury that boils in his blood. He pulls Seonghwa's body into his lap until his head rests on his thigh. 

“Talk. Tell me what in the hell you want so I can forget what your face looks like.”

“Joong-” Maddox tries to begin. Instead, Hongjoong tosses his brother a silencing glare. The man shrinks in on himself slowly. 

Eden looks before them before sighing. His body slumps against the couch. “Hongjoong, understand that this needed to be done. This wedding was the only way for so many kingdoms to witness the same threat all at once. With everyone gathered here, it makes our job easier.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I need you to issue a kingdom-wide ban. One that prohibits the non-consensual spiriting of humans. The years of Fae stealing human lives must come to an end.” 

The idea sounds simple coming from Eden’s mouth. But Hongjoong knows the difficulties that come with such a drastic move. “As much as I agree with your movement, Eden, there is no way to guarantee the receptive nature of the Fae. Fae have been spiriting men, women, and children, for thousands of years. It is burned into our ancient lands.”

“And it must come to an end.” Maddox says. His gaze is leadden as it lands on Hongjoong. “Joongie, please. I cannot bear witness to so many innocent lives destroyed forever simply so the Fae can have new playthings.” 

Across the room, Jongho opens his mouth. “I agree.” The world spins to a halt. Even Yeosang makes a soft noise of confusion in the back of his throat. “Humans do not deserve to pay the price of our boredom.” He walks towards Eden, a hand extended. “I do not trust you, however, I find empathy in your passion. I do not speak for my fiance,” his stare lands on Yeosang. “But I can offer at least the support of Neafri should Avalon accept your deal.”

Perhaps it is from courage electrifying the atmosphere, or the desperation for the night to end, but Yunho speaks softly from where he is slumped. “Vertvale will participate, as well, so long as Avalon does. Our alliance is set in stone with Hongjoong and I will protect that bond until my last breath.” Yunho offers the king a soft smile. “My friend, I stand alongside you, no matter your choice.” Mingi nods beside his fiance. His hand comes to rest over the Cu Sith’s knee. 

“While Yunho summarized his thoughts quite well, I have to add a bit more on. You are also stuck with me, Kim Hongjoong. Tialklan offers our services.”

From his spot on the floor, Wooyoung coughs gently. Hongjoong’s shocked stare sputters over to his childhood friend. As the Aos Si looks back at him, he gives him a gentle smile. “Well, you know where I stand.” His fingers absentmindedly run through San’s hair. “I don’t give a single shit if this ship goes down. I’m here for the captain only.” He gives a two fingered salute to the king. “If you sink, we go down with you, Joong. Just…” He sighs dramatically. The tension in his shoulders does not leave. “Let’s avoid drowning the best we can, yeah?” The remark earns a quiet laugh from the room. He watches each of the guards nod their approval as well. Chan’s hands fidget softly in his lap. Hongjoong wonders how this is affecting him, but knows the human will not tell him unless it was a life or death situation. 

A gentle weight lands on his shoulder. Behind him, Yeosang leans against his back, his palm resting on Hongjoong’s shoulder as though he is the only thing keeping him afloat. His blue eyes contrast the redness from his tears. Even his usually flawless skin is blotchy with exertion. For a moment, he does not speak. His head bobs softly, as though searching for words, when finally his deep voice flutters through the room. 

“As Jongho said, he does not speak for me. However,” He looks at the space between his feet on the cold tile. “I can speak for myself. Bylea stands with you.” The world turns slowly as Hongjoong struggles to catch his breath. “I stand with you, King Kim Hongjoong. Afterall, what better way to repay you for helping me bag the man of my dreams than to dedicate my life to serving a valiant goal.” The Aos Si smiles gingerly and leans back in his seat once more. “We’ll always be by your side, Joong.” 

Hongjoong is slow to speak. His voice catches in his throat as he tries his hardest to say something, anything. Instead, he just sobs gently into his lap. Beside him, Maddox pulls him into a tight hug. He smells of earth and honeysuckle and Hongjoong buries his face into his brother’s shoulder. For once, he does not feel the horrible resentment that coursed through his veins. Instead, he feels the relief of understanding begin to warm him. It is like letting go of the weight that had once fallen onto his young body. Maddox runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry.” His brother mumbles over and over again. Hongjoong cannot bring himself to respond. Not while his husband lays unconscious in his lap. “I’m so sorry, Joongie.” 

Mingi interrupts the tender moment, sensing the still tense atmosphere around them. Hongjoong is almost thankful for the Cat Sith’s timing. “What is the plan then? How exactly was it in our best interest for you to  _ stab our leader?” _ His words hold a venomous bite that Hongjoong nearly laughs tearily at.  _ “Afterall, you fucking stabbed your brother-in-law.”  _ The addition does make the king burst out with a wet giggle. Eden has the decency to look embarrassed. 

“I just...I needed to draw attention?” 

“There was a wedding going on! You were already standing near the altar!” Wooyoung bursts out. “What other kind of attention did you need?” Yunho snickers under his breath. Nearby, Hongjoong watches as Jun works to untie everyone’s binds. He wonders briefly how the man managed to get out of his own, but knows better than to question the leader of the knights.

Eden scoffs. “A threat. I needed to create the illusion of a threat.”

“You did more than create an illusion.” The grumble comes from Wooyoung’s lap. San finally seems to be coming back to consciousness and he is pissed. His hand finds the back of his head as he palms an unseen injury. “How hard did I hit the damn floor?” Wooyoung sighs and cradles the fox to his chest. 

“Pretty hard.” Mingi supplies as he fights a grin. “You really just fell like a dead weight.” San groans loudly. “Seriously dude, take it easy.” 

“I can heal you-” Chan starts before Donghun crosses the room in a few strides. Gently, he pushes the man back against the cushions with his palm. The Selkie shakes his head; a frown flitting across his lips.

“No, you need a break. You just saved our brave leader,” He casts a quick sympathetic smile Hongjoong’s way. “From bleeding out on the floor.”

Maddox rolls his eyes, barely visible through the long chunks of dark hair. “I was not going to let him bleed out. It was just a little stab wound.”

Chan bares his teeth in a very inhuman manner. The dull nubs stark white against his already pale flesh. “I suggest you do not open your mouth, you dead king.” His eyes flash dangerously. “Consider yourself lucky that I am loyal to Hongjoong or I would have slit your throat the moment I entered this room.”

Maddox throws his hands into the air. “We came here in peace.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up.” Yeosang grinds out. His deep voice coating the room like ice. “Hongjoong trusted you. Cared for you.” His eyes meet Eden’s. “You fed us lies and led us to your like sheep prepared for the slaughter. You used _my_ _fiance’s abilities_ as a pawn in some pathetic scheme to terrorize us into submission when all you truly had to do was ask us to assist you.” The Aos Si glares at the two strangers. “Nothing about your arrival was peaceful and if not for the love that my dear friend still harbors for his traitorous brother, I would have cast your head upon a pyre.” Hongjoong breathes deeply. His heart pitters in his chest as Yeosang addresses the two men, but he makes no move to stop him. Instead, he waits for the Fae to finish. When the room falls deathly silent again, Hongjoong takes the opportunity to speak. 

“Yeosang is entirely correct. If it was not for our past, Maddox, I would have you strung up on the castle walls for all to see.” His brother’s eyes widen comically at the sudden threat. “Unfortunately, you are my brother. Truly, you only needed to request our assistance. Instead, you made these last few months a living hell. Not to mention, I still haven’t the slightest clue where you disappeared to all those years ago.”

Maddox looks at the hands folded tightly in his lap. “I will share those memories with you, Joong. When Chan is well-rested and your friends are cared for, he has my purpose to access and replicate them for you.” His brother frowns. “It is too difficult to explain. These last few years, Joongie, I’ve learned so much more than fathomable.” 

“Do you promise?” Hongjoong’s voice is low. It is quiet enough that San’s shuffling on the floor blankets it easily. Maddox meets the lethal stare that the king levels towards him. Slowly, he nods. 

“I don’t suppose breaking any more promises with you would lead me anywhere.” The sigh is not audible, but its presence lingers in his words. “I promise, Hongjoong.” Beside him, Eden agrees softly. Before the conversation can take another turn, Hongjoong feels his husband's weight begin to shift in his lap. Seonghwa groans quietly and covers his face with his arm. 

Hongjoong does not stop the gentle gasp that leaves his throat. “Hwa?” Below him, the Phouka murmurs something muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. “Park Seonghwa, look at me, love.” His tone scratches the wall of desperation. “Baby, please.” 

“I told you, I did not hurt him-” 

Hongjoong cuts Eden off instantly. “And I’m certain that we’ve told you,” He growls. “ _ Shut up. _ ” The room laughs lightly as Eden silences himself. Hongjoong runs a hand along Seonghwa’s cheek. “Hwa? I need you to look at me.” The man uncovers his face carefully. As his aqua eyes open in tender recognition, Hongjoong holds back another set of brimming tears. “Hey.”

Seonghwa makes a faint noise in the back of his throat. No words pass between them and Seonghwa leans up silently to press a chaste kiss to his lips. As he pulls away, he smiles softly. “Hey.” Hongjoong throws his arms around the other tightly. The warmth of the man’s skin settles against him like home. Seonghwa nuzzles into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, breathing in the scent deeply, and sighs. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Hongjoong laughs feebly as he feels some portion of his life return to normal. “To be completely fair, none of this was my fault.” The dampness on his neck reveals his husband’s deep seated fear. Hongjoong brings his arms around the other even tighter. The salt runs down his own cheeks as he finally breaks. The group lets them have their moment. In the distance, each couple fusses amongst themselves. Even Jongho moves to pull Yeosang into his lap and cradle the man against his chest. 

Hongjoong finds it within himself to push forward. As he brings Seonghwa up to speed, his husband nods along; frowning when he explains the goal. His voice is deep as he searches Hongjoong’s gaze for any hint of hesitation. “Are you certain this is what you would like to do? I cannot guarantee that the other kingdoms will be pleased, my love. Do we have the man-power to protect ourselves in the case of a riot?” Hongjoong hums in response. In all honesty, he is uncertain. His fingers run through Seonghwa’s hair as he turns to look at his brother-in-law. 

“Are you prepared to sacrifice yourself if this plan of yours backfires, Eden?” The blonde does not look at him. Instead, his focus is entirely on Maddox. Yet, the man still nods.

“So long as Maddox remains safe,” He reaches down until the other man intertwines their fingers. “I am prepared for anything.” Maddox hums softly, despite the dismayed expression on his face. Hongjoong wonders briefly how many times they have had this conversation. How many times they outlined just how far they were willing to go. “I can never repay any of you with anything but my loyalty. It is all I have.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “You could start by apologizing. That’s the only repayment we need.”

“Hongjoong, I am very sorry-”

“Not to me,” Hongjoong says. His face flickers between irritation and shock. “To those you pulled into this alongside me. To my friends and my husband.” Eden gazes back completely abashed. His face lights up a deep crimson as Wooyoung and Mingi snicker from around the room. “I’m waiting, dearest brother.” Hongjoong warns the newest addition to his family. If the man insists on getting his way, Hongjoong will oblige; on his own terms.

Eden stays quiet for a few heartbeats. Finally, he whispers, “I sincerely apologize for my actions. I hope we can work together from here on out.” Teetering on the arm of the couch, the human looks like a scolded child. For once, Hongjoong finds the situation hilarious. Even the painful tug of his recently healed wound does not stop him from cackling loudly. Portions of the group join in one at a time until the only silent members are Eden and Maddox. Junhee wipes stray tears from the corners of his eyes, glowering at the two intruders. 

“Our king is a benevolent one. I suggest you do not test anyone within the castle again, lest you see just what the A.C.E team of the royal guard is capable of.” With a turn, Junhee walks to Maddox and holds out a steady hand. “Welcome home, old friend.” Maddox chuckles under his breath. Finally, he grasps the other Elf’s palm. Hongjoong lets go of a breath he did not know he was holding. Seonghwa leans against him gently, careful of the place his wound once was, and studies the two men from a distance. 

His warm breath tickles the hair at the nape of Hongjoong’s neck as he speaks into his ear. “Your brother grew up nicely.” Seonghwa presses a light kiss to his cheek. “I was blessed with the prettiest one though.” Hongjoong blushes; despite the circumstances around them. The other king however pushes on to command the attention of the room. “I may have been unconscious for the majority of this event, but as a partial ruler to both Grenumar and Avalon, I believe that it is best we hurry the  _ hell up. _ ” His aqua eyes twinkle spectacularly in the golden light of the study. “Some of us would like to enjoy our wedding night.” 

“Hwa!” Hongjoong squeaks, his body flushing. His husband only grins toothily. While the sentiment is mutual, it is not something he wants his brother to know. “Seonghwa is right, however. We best get this show on the road if any chance at reform is to occur within the next century.”

Eden nods, his voice coming out softer and more submissive than before. “You are correct. Let us discuss the plan…” 

✧ ✧ ✧

As Hongjoong resumes his place in the throne room, his heart thunders in his chest. Every moment that passes, he feels a subtle tremor of doubt.  _ What if it fails?  _ The crown that rests tenderly on his head weighs heavily. It is as though each and every nerve in his body is alight. It is then that a resounding crack echoes through the room. The intense spell Maddox had placed over the wedding guests begins to rise as the buzz of power filters slowly from the space. Eden stands behind the throne, in his hands a blade positioned at the base of Hongjoong’s throat. It is all for show, to instill fear, but Hongjoong cannot shake his distrust of the human. His guards are positioned on each side of the throne stage. If something does happen to take a turn, they have been given permission to kill. 

In the seat next to him, Seonghwa’s fiery gaze holds his own. Behind his throne, Maddox mirrors Eden’s position. Silently, he mouths, “I love you. Breathe.” Hongjoong can only nod and face forward. Tear stains have been glamored back onto his skin by Chan in hopes to persuade the public into believing the threat. Even his wound has been lightly tampered with to appear fresh. 

As the first guests begin to stand, they look immediately to the King. Hongjoong catches the gaze of Jeong Gunho, Yunho’s younger brother, and feels a harsh pang in his chest. The boy’s eyes widen as he looks between the blade and Eden. Hongjoong gently shakes his head; noiselessly pleading that he not make any rash actions. Gunho swallows visibly, but his feet stay rooted in place. Even as Yunho looks to his brother, the boy does not show emotion. _ He will make a fine leader one day.  _ Once the final guest rises, Eden clears his throat loudly. 

“Greetings, guests of the crown.” The blade presses sharply against Hongjoong’s skin. Even now, the iron makes his body feel sluggish. “It is in your best interest to remain standing where you are. My name is Eden, husband to your former ruler.” He jerks his head to where Maddox hovers. A soft gasp runs through the crowd as people take in Maddox’s altered appearance. “I bring a deal from the human realm. Unfortunately, I did not give these two rulers any chance of discussing it with you. See, it is a very simple agreement, but if we do not find harmony with it, my human armies will be forced to make their move.

They have been positioned in all of the major kingdoms throughout the  Tír na nÓg. Within seconds of hearing my command, they can level even your largest cities. So, think calmly and clearly about fighting back.” Eden’s voice is poisonous. Many of the nobles in the crowd look to the eight rulers that stand in the front of the room. Wooyoung puts on a show of dropping to his knees and pulling San with him. Even Yunho pulls his gaze away from Gunho’s long enough to bow lowly. “The proposition is simple: Agree here tonight that from this point forward, no humans will be brought into the Tír na nÓg without their expressed consent.” He smiles wickedly; loose strands of blonde fall into his mouth. “Easy, right?”

A whisper runs through the crowd. It is moments before a round man takes a step forward. His black robes have been embroidered with a shimmering emerald thread. Instantly, Hongjoong senses that he will be an issue. “And if we don’t agree?” The man squeaks.

Eden laughs. His eyes narrow into a threatening glare as he pushes the blade tightly against Hongjoong’s throat. For a second, the metal singes him and he bellows a cry. The man skitters backwards and bows. “Any other questions?” Hongjoong does not dare breathe. “Wonderful.” He pulls the dagger away from his skin slightly. “One by one, you will report to the throne and give your verbal, expressed agreement. You will sign this contract,” he motions to the piece of parchment they prepared in the study. “With your true name and kingdom. And you will leave. It’s that easy.”

Maddox and Eden shove the kings onto their knees and force them to repeat the actions first. Hongjoong bites back the feeling of shame that courses through his veins. Beside him, he watches Seonghwa’s eyes fill with unshed tears. No matter how humiliated they may feel, they are at least alive.  _ Everyone is alive.  _ As the other six members of the alliance step forward, the invisible bond between them seems to grow and pulse. 

Gunho steps up to the parchment next and offers Hongjoong a deep bow. Yunho runs his fingers through his brother’s hair in a comforting manner and offers him a soft hug as the boy waits for their mother and father to sign as well. Even as the final person to approach them arrives on the stairs of the throne, Hongjoong feels his heart drum against his ribcage painfully. Before him, Seonghwa’s father bows deeply. Even after his curling signature begins to dry, Hongjoong cannot fight the tears that run down his cheeks both in relief and sympathy. Maddox allows Seonghwa to fall against his father as he sobs into his open arms.

“Are you alright?” His father asks. Seonghwa does not speak. Instead, he soaks through the soft fabric of the man’s tunic. The older Phouka locks eyes with Hongjoong and Eden allows him to spring into the ruler’s arms as well. “Everything is okay, Kim Hongjoong. Your father would be so proud of you.” He glances over Hongjoong’s shoulder, straight at Maddox. “I am certain you have your reasons, Dead King. But the risk you have put my sons into,” Hongjoong blushes profusely as he realizes that Seonghwa’s father considers him to be family. “Is too great a deal for me to forgive. Know that I have not signed this contract for you. It is entirely for the safety of Grenumar and Avalon alike.” His true implication goes unspoken.  _ Do not fuck with my children again. _

✧ ✧ ✧

The night breathes softly into his mind. Hongjoong’s body and soul seem to be in two separate places as he soaks in a tub of white sage, lavender, and rose. His head lolls back against Seonghwa’s bare chest as he closes his eyes tightly. Even in the candlelight, his husband glitters like obsidian. Seonghwa rubs a tense portion of the Elf’s shoulder; his thumbs working small circles into the slick flesh. 

“Thank you.” The words hang softly in the air. For a moment, Seonghwa stops his ministrations to huff into Hongjoong’s hair. The Elf laughs quietly and turns to press a light kiss to the man’s lips. “I’m serious. Thank you.”

Seonghwa smiles, his fangs flashing in the subtle light. “And what could you possibly be thanking me for, love?” His wet hand brushes the hair out of Hongjoong’s eyes carefully. Even as his intimate aqua gaze does not lift, the Phouka appears gentle. 

Hongjoong hums and turns to face forward once more. His head presses against the warmth of Seonghwa’s chest. “Caring for me. Tolerating whatever the hell that was.” He pauses. “Also, for not running for the hills the moment Jongho’s screams tore through the night air of the revel. That was a deal breaker.”

Seonghwa smirks against the damp skin of his neck. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, Kim Hongjoong. I do not break my promises.” Hongjoong smiles and turns his body until he straddles Seonghwa’s bare thighs. 

“Break me then?” He watches the way a pink flush spreads over his husband’s pale skin. Every movement casts his body silver and gold in the mix of flickering candlelight and the moon. As the Phouka drags his fangs along the sensitive skin of Hongjoong’s jaw, he cannot fight a gentle laugh.

“That much I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! So, we're finally here. One full chapter and an epilogue away from the end. Thank you for sticking around for this long This is the biggest fic I have ever worked with and the fact that it is almost over makes me quite sad. Which is why I'm glad to say that there will be spinoffs for each of the main couples. I also have a new angsty piece planned for WooSan so stick around for that action when it arrives. 
> 
> As always, I love when you guys add me on Insta, Twitter, and Tumblr: @KyojinaOuji  
> I also always follow back.
> 
> See you in a few days for the next chapter.  
> Cheers!
> 
> EDIT 4/1: Hello again friends! Unfortunately, chapter 10 is going to be late! It is written and ready for publication, but I’m a dummy and got big-boi injured while dancing. Once I can sit and transfer it onto Ao3, it will be out! ;v; I’m so sorry for the wait.


	10. My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this bread.

> _ “And oh my friends, _
> 
> _ I am ready. _
> 
> _ Can I beat within your heart? _
> 
> _ Can I bleed within your love? _
> 
> _ And I can't forget it, all of the love, _
> 
> _ as we stood tall together; _
> 
> _ All of the love.” _
> 
> **_My Friends_ ** _ \- Oh Wonder _
> 
> * * *

_ *Three Years Later* _

It’s the pink light of the morning dancing over the room, splintering into hundreds of colorful fractals as it glides through the stained glass. It’s the gentle breathing of the man laying beside him and the warmth that pools in his stomach as his gaze dances along the man’s pale skin. His  _ husband’s _ pale skin. Seonghwa dozes peacefully next to him. Plush, pink lips just slightly. Long eyelashes brushing the contented flush of his cheeks. His bare back peeks from beneath the silken sheets and Hongjoong cannot help but trace a tender finger from freckle to freckle; creating their own constellations. Mapping his own sky. His husband’s damaged wings twitch lightly at the sensation.  _ Oops _ .

“Hmph-” Seonghwa rolls onto his side, eyes cracked slightly to peer up at Hongjoong. The usual meticulous styling of his dark hair has fallen flat. Sections of it stick up randomly and the Avalonian king notices the subtle wave to a few of the pieces. The Phouka yawns and an arm wraps around Honjoong’s waist to pull him back down into the bed. He mouths tenderly at the red-head’s throat. A shiver runs down his spine as sharp fangs graze the sensitive flesh. 

“Hwa,” He stifles a quiet gasp. “Were you not satiated last night?”

“Mhm.” His husband pulls his lips away from his neck. Hongjoong glances down to see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Was definitely satisfied last night.” He presses a kiss to the bare skin of Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Just like you a lot.” Hongjoong shoves the Phouka away playfully. 

“Well, I’m glad for that. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Good.” Seonghwa shoves his face back into the pillow beneath his head. “Sleep then.” It takes everything in his being to begin to push from the bed. As his feet hit the cold ground, he turns to see his husband watching him closely. “Why are you getting up?”

Hongjoong laughs. The sound reverberates through the room for a few moments before dissipating into the sun rays. “Yeosang and Jongho are arriving today.” Seonghwa sits up quickly. His hair falls into his face as he scrambles to push it back.  _ Cute _ . “They’re bringing a particularly difficult Salamander shifter with them.”

“A child?” His husband seems to vibrate with excitement. They had been waiting for this day for so long. “A child of royal lineage?” Hongjoong’s tail swishes softly behind him. For months, he has left it unbound. Somewhere between the first and second year of their union, Hongjoong felt that hiding it any longer from the public was just too great a hassle. 

Hongjoong’s heart flutters as he thinks back to the letter from Yeosang. “A bastard. Born of the same conditions as I. However, his blood is connected directly with his throne.” Hongjoong cannot help but smile brilliantly at his husband. “Today is only the first of many. He might not even like us. However, if I can keep even one child from feeling so alone-”

“Then we will do so. Anything that we can.” Seonghwa lunges across the bed, effectively pulling Hongjoong back with him, and nuzzles into his collarbone. “We’re receiving a child of our own.”

Hongjoong’s chest bounces as he chuckles quietly. “You did not truly believe our friends were going to be the only ones with heirs, did you, love?” Seonghwa grins into the flesh of his shoulder. The comfortable love that passes between them is prolific. It settles over the room like a sun-bathed blanket. 

“Well, I certainly was hopeful that we would be blessed.” His husband pauses. A thoughtful, albeit worried, expression crosses his features. “I suppose one day we’ll have to think about marriage arrangements then.” 

Hongjoong barks out a laugh. “Good lord, Seonghwa, they are but children. Do you truly think it best to consign our unknown child’s bond away to one of Yeosang or Wooyoung’s beasts?” San and Wooyoung’s children were twin Selkie heirs that had been abandoned following the destruction of their clan in war. Byeol was a spitfire of a child. Her hair rarely brushed thoroughly and her knees always covered in mud, she gave the Wooyoung of years past a run for his money. Dal, on the other hand, was nothing like his parents. The young boy cowered behind San’s legs during every visit and only seemed to take a liking to Mingi and Yunho after the two taught him how to play some bizarre, multi-faceted dice game about Dragons and escape rooms.

Seonghwa hums quietly. “Bom is a good girl. She’s so interested in healing that I cannot imagine her as anything but a wonderful apocartharist.” Yeosang and Jongho had taken in a young Banshee-Aos Si hybrid. Her heritage was mostly unknown as she had been found simply wandering the woods of Bylea just before spring with no recollection of her past. 

Hongjoong smiles tenderly and presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “You are partial to Bom because she follows you around as though you are her mother hen.” His husband does not even hide the nod he offers in response. “They will be here soon, dear. We best get up.” Seonghwa pouts and grabs Hongjoong’s chin softly. As their lips connect, he sighs contentedly. Lemon and char. Even after all of these years, it has not changed. 

Seonghwa kitten-licks into his mouth until Hongjoong finally gives in. His tongue dances along sharp fangs; procuring a quiet groan from his husband. They begin to shift backwards onto the bed just as the chamber door opens. Hongjoong startles beneath Seonghwa, but the older man only huffs and rolls off of him slowly. Maddox starts in the doorway; Eden peering over his shoulder from the hall. His brother chuckles deeply as Hongjoong flushes a bright red.

“Sorry to disturb you, Joong,” His dark hair is pulled into a low, messy ponytail. The years have been kind to the two of them. Despite their differences, even Hongjoong has learned to enjoy his presence once again. “But we need you two downstairs.”

“I did not know you were coming back today.” The flush has begun to recede from Hongjoong’s frame. Maddox nods slowly, but begins to close the door. His smile is sympathetic. “Is everything alright?”

Eden perks up behind his husband. “We brought a few new recruits from the human realm. They would like to train with the guards.” A hand comes to rest on Maddox’s shoulder. From the bed, Hongjoong can see the distant sparkle of his wedding band. “We thought it would be best for you to come meet them.”

Hongjoong sits up slowly, pulling Seonghwa with him. “Of course, we’ll be right down once we get dressed.” 

“That would be optimal,” Maddox snickers. A pillow flies past his head; smacking Eden in the face behind him. Seonghwa glowers in their direction. For once, Mingi is not the one waking them up and receiving well-aimed furniture to the skull. “See you downstairs.” The door clicks into place as Seonghwa falls dramatically against the mattress. 

His plush lips pull into a dainty frown. “When are we going to have alone time if we are taking in a child AND your brother insists on running training sessions with our guards?” His aqua eyes squint up at Hongjoong in the harshening sunlight. “Baby, are you sure we can’t-”

Hongjoong groans and smothers his husband with the comforter. “No. We had our fun last night, but it’s time for us to be kings again.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The boys prove to be fast learners. By the time the couple arrives downstairs, all six of Maddox’s new recruits have already made their acquaintance to the guards. Seeing the kings approach, Junhee waves them over with a smile. Over the years, his hair has grown to his shoulders. The top half is pulled into a fluffy half-knot as he motions at the group of boys in front of him. Each appears to be a halfling of something Fae except for one. The apparent leader of the group bows low to the pair. 

“Hello, your highnesses. It is an honor to meet you.” He holds out a hand to Hongjoong. The king grips it tightly, testing how long the man will let him squeeze, and is satisfied when he does not flinch even slightly. His light brown hair falls over his forehead in a styled swoop as he turns to shake Seonghwa’s hand as well. “My name is Ravn.”

“You’re human.” Seonghwa observes. His gaze traces the boy slowly. “Is this your first time in our realm?” Ravn nods. 

“It is the first for all of us, sire.” Ravn’s focus shifts to where Maddox and Eden laugh with the other members. “Maddox gathered us one by one from the human realm. I was the first they happened to find, but I’m a full-blooded human.” 

Hongjoong purses his lips in contemplation. His hand reaches up to run along the sharp point of his ear and fidget with one of the earrings that dangle from the cartilage. “Why would a human offer to come here?” Ravn frowns.

“My older sister is a changeling.” His words hang heavy in the air between them. “I promise you, I harbor no ill will for Fae.” His smile leaks onto his face. Finally, it is as though Hongjoong can breathe again. “I grew up hearing stories of the Fae. Living with her was a wild experience and she wanted to stay in the mortal world. I, on the other hand, have always wanted to be part of this universe.” Ravn blushes deeply. “It’s funny. I guess you could call me a changeling in my own way.” 

Hongjoong laughs at the admission. His gaze drifts to where Chan stands alongside the other guards. “You know, I think you’ll find you have a lot in common with the knights here.” His places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Welcome to Avalon.” Ravn bows again, this time introducing the rest of his group. 

Each other halfling is one part human. Seoho, a Cat Sith, wears a similar expression to Mingi. Unlike the Tialklan Prince, the boy has no tail and only one eye is that of a cat. The other is a deep brown as he winks in Hongjoong’s direction. His hair is a reddish auburn that curls wildly. Beside him, an Asrai named Leedo stares pointedly at the ground. The other three men bicker amongst each other. Hwanwoong, an elf with small, pointed ears, pushes against the trickster fox Keonhee. Immediately, Hongjoong fears the moment San meets another of his kind. Tricksters are rare and foxes even moreso. Finally, his gaze settles on the last boy. While the brunette Dryad looks nothing like the glamour Chan put on Hongjoong the night of the revel, the similarities are striking. Xion cocks his head slightly and offers him a large, toothy grin.

As introductions come to a close, Maddox ushers the group into the practice room. One by one, the gathering disperses until it is just Byeongkwan, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, in the common area. The Sprite’s wings lay gently against his back. The small space does not offer him enough room to spread them even slightly, but he does not seem to mind. Instead, he pulls Hongjoong into a quick hug.

“You’ve done so well, Joong.” The man looks at him with deep-seated pride. Hongjoong feels the subtle burn of tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you. For everything. For trusting us. For supporting us.” The engagement ring on his finger glitters in the delicate light. Sehyoon had proposed nearly a year ago, but the two made no move to plan their wedding; despite Hongjoong’s offers to pay for the entire thing. “We’ll make sure these boys can protect you and the heirs.” He smiles brilliantly before turning on his heel and following the others. 

Hongjoong laughs. The man never lets him get a word in edgewise. Even so, he leans against Seonghwa’s warm chest as the Phouka wraps his arms around his waist. His voice rumbles deep in his throat as he sways slightly with the Elf. 

“When are Yeosang and Jongho due to arrive?”

Hongjoong hums as he thinks back to the letters the Aos Si sent him. “Mid-noon? What time is it now?” The clock on the wall ticks slowly, but Hongjoong starts at the realization. “Now. They’re due now.” He disentangles himself from his husband’s hold and walks briskly to a window that faces the main gate. Sure enough, a group of Fae make their way down the sidewalk. Yeosang’s hand is wrapped tightly in Jongho’s; a permanent smile on his face. Beside him, his other hand is held tightly by a small, pink-haired Fae. Bom smiles sweetly at her fathers as they talk amongst themselves. Her focus, however, is on the boy walking on Jongho’s other side. He looks frail with long, white blonde hair. It has been pulled into a fishtail braid over one shoulder. The front strands are a startling cerulean blue. Folded at his back are two leathery, aqua wings tipped with silver. Hongjoong immediately recognizes them as clips that weigh the poor boy down. His feet are carrying him through the castle before he can even process it. Seonghwa keeps up a similar pace as they spilled into the courtyard just as the group approaches.

Yeosang is the first to spot him. His eyes growing wide, he smiles brightly at his friends. They meet in the middle as Hongjoong pulls him into a tight embrace. “Been a while, Sangie.” Yeosang’s deep voice tickles the hair in front of his ear. “Welcome home.” He releases the man and watches with amusement as Seonghwa tries to hug Jongho while the other screeches. Instead, he gives up and pulls Bom into his arms. The girl giggles and throws her arms around his neck as he picks her up. 

Yeosang carefully makes his way to the Salamander and leans down to his eye-level. “Are you ready to meet the best people I know?” He offers the boy a sympathetic smile. Up close, Hongjoong can see that the young Fae’s eyes are liquid silver with a sharp, slitted pupil. When he blinks, the color flickers into something iridescent. Hongjoong kneels until he is in front of the boy. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty.” He adds a seated bow to the statement. The blonde’s eyes widen intensely as he stares between both Seonghwa and Hongjoong. The Avalonian cannot help but wonder if the Salamander has ever been treated with respect, much less that of a king. “Might I ask what your name is, dear one?”

The boy’s expression softens into something mushy and pliable. His little voice is that of windchimes in gentle spring breeze and Hongjoong already feels the parental love set in. “Mars. My name is Mars.” The tears begin to spill before he or Hongjoong can stop them. Hongjoong pulls the small boy into his arms, cradling him so that he will know that the world will never leave him behind again. The seconds pass like hours, but then Seonghwa pulls both Fae to his chest. His voice is delicate as he addresses the new member of their family.

“Welcome home, Mars.”

It is his third night in the kingdom when the boy is brought into their chambers by Sehyoon. His white-blonde hair is loose and sweaty as he clings to the Will O’Wisp’s hand; as though it is a lifeline sent by a passing ship. Hongjoong finds himself startled awake by the guards soft tap on his shoulder. 

“Mars, honey, are you alright?” The child cannot bring himself to respond. Instead, the tears fall harder and his trembling frame is visible even in the gentle moondust. “Come here.” The boy throws his weight onto the bed. It bounces softly as Hongjoong scrambles for purchase. Seonghwa’s aqua eyes glint silver in the subtle light, but they are warm. His husband’s arms wrap around the small creature between them until he is pulled tightly to his chest.

“Hush now, sweet boy.” Seonghwa tucks the Salamander’s head beneath his chin. “Was it a nightmare?” The boy nods, his cries softening slowly. “Lucky for you, dear one, we understand nightmares quite well. What lies within sleep, however, cannot reach you here.” Hongjoong pats Sehyoon on the shoulder and the man takes it as his cue to leave. They have the situation under control; for once. 

Hongjoong smiles and presses a tender kiss to both Mars and Seonghwa’s cheeks. “It might surprise you, but Seonghwa and I found each other because of a particular set of nightmares.” He speaks softly, recounting the tale of the revel to the small boy, while leaving out the raunchy details. Before long, both Fae beside him breathe lightly and have found their dreams once more. The thought warms a pocket of his heart as he threads his finger’s through Mars’ long hair. The nightmares brought him to their bedside more often than not. By the time the boy had been living with the two kings for two months, they began to grow used to his small weight settling between them in the late hours. Not once did either portion of the couple complain.

✧ ✧ ✧

“We cannot allow the poaching of Kelpie within any portion of Avalonian borders.” Hongjoong’s fingers press against the stress headache forming at his temples. Seonghwa notices, despite sitting at the opposite end of the long table, and offers him a sympathetic smile. It had been like this for hours. The King of Noritia had placed an intricate request for Kelpie scales to be sold via mass-market production. The material is well-known for its healing attributes when sewn into armor. It was a replenishable resource, but one that Hongjoong could not support. No matter how fiesty the bastards were, Kelpie were living creatures and rare as it was. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but I cannot allow it. We are a council for the rights of all beings. That is not limited to those that can speak.”

Noritia’s king grumbles something indiscernible until Jongho frowns. “As a member of this council, you are allowed a decision in this process, however, we have elected to believe it is a stupid decision. Neafri and Bylea will also be against the poaching.” Yeosang nods beside him. The two kings had become a force to be reckoned with in the council room.

Even Yunho, who stares lazily down the table at the Noritian king, shakes his head with a look of unfiltered irritation. “You are part of a council to protect Fae and humans alike. Perhaps reconsider if you would like to kill anything.” Mingi and Wooyoung snort loudly at the snarky response. The king simply stares at the group and throws his hands up.

“It would benefit all who don the armor!” He yells.

“And none shall don said armor. Movement denied.” Seonghwa frowns and flicks his wrist through the air. “The next order of business falls onto the human spectrum of things.” His gaze settles on Maddox and Eden who sit next to Hongjoong. “The newest members of the royal guard here in Avalon will most likely be prepared for placement once their training completes at the end of the month. Would you like them to return with you to the human realm?”

Maddox seems to ponder this for a moment before shaking his head. The scarring of his surgery is visible through the waves of his dark bob. “I believe it is entirely their decision, but last we spoke, they found the accommodations of the  Tír na nÓg to be much more preferable than those among mortals.” Eden nods along with his husband. 

“I would hate to pull them out of something they so enjoy.” The human says, his smile sweet like jasmine honey. “Though, it would be nice for a guard force to possibly maintain the entry ways between the Tír na nÓg and the other side.” He studies the buff color of his nail beds. Even from a distance, the boredom rolls off of him in waves. “It’s difficult to do it all on our lonesome.” 

Seonghwa nods, his weighted focus falling onto the room as a whole. When it settles over Hongjoong, he can feel the power radiating off of him. It was a second skin and added a stunning glow to his frame. “All in favor of training and deploying a sentry service for the portals?” The group hums in agreement. A heavy breath leaves Hongjoong’s frame. It is rare that the full council of 24 representatives found itself in a unanimous decision. However, one does not look a gift horse in the mouth. 

As the meeting winds down, a tumbling group of children barrel through the thick, wooden doors of the oblong office. White and blue charges towards Hongjoong’s open lap, clamoring into it and burying his face into the king’s tunic. Mars’ shakes slightly as Byeol comes to a halt beside her own fathers. Wooyoung stares between the two young Fae in confusion while San cackles at whatever the Selkie cradles in her arms. As Hongjoong zeros in on the slimy mass of green and blue skin, the girl beams back at him. 

“Why do you have a frog?” Wooyoung asks slowly, his eyes never lifting from the creature in his daughter’s grasp. “ _ Oh god, why do you have a frog, Byeol? _ ”

She smiles widely at her father and shoves it closer to him. Gagging, he lurches away from it. “Mars said that he’s never seen one. So, I found one.” Seonghwa snorts down the table as Maddox begins to pull Eden out the door.

“Is that true, love?” Hongjoong runs a hand through the Salamander’s long hair. He nods frantically into the Elf’s chest. “You do not like what you see?” The boy lets out a quiet ‘no’ and buries himself further. Byeol pouts in response, rolling her eyes as Wooyoung pleads that she take it back outdoors. It is a hilariously domestic sight between the original group and a sunburst of nostalgia pops in Hongjoong’s heart. He chuckles as Mars lifts his head from Hongjoong to stare after the wild girl. His molten eyes soften with appreciation as he presses a soft kiss to his guardian’s cheek. It is just as he calls out to Maddox and begins to teeter over to him that the glass if the stained window shatters. As iridescent fractals tinkle like millions of sharp bells across the floor, Hongjoong tackles Mars to the ground; to safety. 

He does not register the horrified scream that echoes around him until silence fetters over the room. Hongjong runs his hands along the boy’s flesh, checking for wounds, but notices none. It is only when he searches for his husband’s loyal gaze that he finds no aqua heat peering back. Swiftly, around the very-much alive bodies of his friends, he moves. 

At the foot if his chair, Seonghwa’s crumpled frame is visible. As he kneels beside his lover’s body, Mars’ wide gaze stares at him from beneath the table. Frantically, Hongjoong waves to the boy. “Mars, get to safety. Find Junhee.” He nods and takes off with ferocious speed. Hongjoong pulls his focus back to the Phouka, whose hand presses tightly to his shoulder. From it, an iron cast carbon arrow sticks out. “Love? Seonghwa?” His voice is pleading, a storm cloud after the end of summer. Desperate to remain just a little longer. “Seonghwa!” 

The man shifts in his arms, his eyes hardly opening. When he does appear more coherent, Hongjoong presses his fingers to Seonghwa's throat. Slick with blood, they slide around the flesh searching for a pulse. When they finally detect one, it is faint. His husband smiles in that “everything is alright” way and Hongjoong feels his stomach lurch. 

“Hey, hey, stay with me, alright?” Seonghwa’s smile flickers as he struggles to press his featherlight touch to Hongjoong’s cheek. “Hwa, I need you to look at me. I need you to stay with me, baby.” Seonghwa bites his lip as Hongjoong applies pressure to the wound. A muffled cry leaves his throat as he squirms uncomfortably. The crimson pools on the tile beneath him, glittering like liquid rubies. Junhee appears before them; calling medic after medic into the room. Hongjoong realizes now that more than one person has been injured. 

“Joong, I need you to step back.” Jun’s voice is low. Careful. Like he is taming a wild beast that could lash out at any moment. Hongjoong knows to listen; that ignoring his request will only make things more difficult, but Seonghwa’s barely there gaze pulls at his heartstrings. He throws reason to the wind and cradles his husband tighter. “Joongie, you  _ need _ to listen. Please don’t make this difficult.”

It’s when Seonghwa’s gaze finally hardens on him that Hongjoong almost faints. The man reaches out slowly, his touch tender as he ghosts a finger over Hongjoong’s cheek. “Go, my love.” It comes out as a whisper; only gaining traction at the end. “I’ll be fine.”

Hongjoong sees Mars in the doorway. His small frame trembles in panic as he looks for his guardians. “I love you.” Hongjoong’s hot tears splash on the title, mingling with blood. “I love you.”

Seonghwa sighs softly. “And I love you. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you.” Seonghwa runs a trembling hand through Hongjoong’s bangs, staining the red strands a deep crimson with his blood. “I will love you until my body carves its name into the Earth. I will love you until lavender and peonies sprout from the soil and I am simply a name left to the bones of memory.” He smiles- a brilliant smile- and breathes slowly. “I love you, but right now, there is someone who needs you more than I.” Hongjoong presses a kiss to his lips before finally handing him off to Jun. The guard nods in understanding as Hongjoong runs to his child and pulls the boy into his arms. 

“Uncle Maddox-“ Mars begins, his little voice hardly legible. Hongjoong sees him then; his brother. Liquid red pools beneath his pale frame; an arrow skewering his throat. From its fletching, a parchment tag flutters. Eden lays beside him, his sobs breaking through the room. Hongjoong runs to the man, begging Mars not to look. The boy complies, tucking his head under Hongjoong’s chin. 

“Eden!” He cries, throwing himself beside the human. “You need to come with us.”

I can’t just leave him here, Hongjoong!” Eden’s pale face is speckled with his husband’s drying blood. His blonde hair glitters as stray glass mingles with it. For the first time since knowing the man, he looks devastatingly frail. Human.

Hongjoong grabs a fistful of the man’s sweater, attempting to tug him along with them. “I understand that Eden, but he isn’t here anymore. That is not him.” Eden hiccups at the words, another sob breaking from his throat. He gives a rough pull and frees the piece of parchment from the arrow. “We need to move. We’ll come back. Please just come.” The man seems close to arguing, even as Mingi and Yunho tear towards them and take Mars from Hongjoong’s arms. The king startles before carefully thanking the two men. Hongjoong kneels beside Eden, heaving his weight over his shoulder, and begins to flee. In the distance, he sees Wooyoung and San waving the other council members to safety. He glances behind them, in search of Yeosang and Jongho, only to have Yunho shake his head. 

“They left with San and Wooyoung to help the others.” The Cu Sith’s voice wavers as he stumbles after them. Mars’ small face tucks into the crook of his neck. “Where’s Hwa?” Hongjoong feels the numb chill of devastation run through his body. 

“He was hit.” His throat catches painfully. Mingi’s gaze lowers immediately. “Jun is taking care of him, so I assume Chan is on his way.” He pauses, uncertain if he can continue. Seonghwa’s delicate body flashes through his mind. An ice-sculpture melting every second since entering this damned kingdom. “Were there any other injuries?” San waves them quickly into the safety room as Yunho shakes his head.

“None aside from cuts and scratches.”

Mingi helps Yunho set Mars onto a nearby settee. His red hair flops wildly over one eye. “It seems to have been a planned attack, Joong.” Eden shudders beside him. “I saw a note with Maddox...did you happen to grab it, Eden?” The human’s nine mile stare centers somewhere between Hongjoong and San in the doorway. He nods numbly, fishing in his pocket for the parchment. When he pulls it from the fabric, Hongjoong’s body runs cold at the amount of blood tinting its edges. His brother’s blood. The dry-heave happens quickly and he cannot stop himself from nearly emptying the contents of his stomach on the ancient carpet. While it would most likely be an upgrade, nothing surfaces. Warmth radiates through the crimson stained fabric of his tunic as Yunho rubs reassuring circles into his back.

Beside him, Mingi takes the paper from Eden slowly. Scrawled in thick, black ink is the word, ‘quisling’. A traitor. There is no signature, alluding to the idea that the assassin worked alone. They had one goal and they seemed to accomplish it. Eden chokes out another sobs and threads his fingers through his hair. He rocks back and forth as Hongjoong’s resolve finally crumbles. The red-hair crawls over to the other man before pulling him into a tight embrace. He has no idea how much time passes as the two finally let go. At some point, he feels himself drift into a sanctuary of emotional paralysis. War had been brought to their home; even if only in the form of a single attacker. 

Dusk falls upon the room just as a slouching dark figure apparates into the doorway. Sehyoon steps into the light softly, an unconscious Seonghwa slumped against his shoulder, and offers Hongjoong the barest of smiles. His chest pangs as he scrambles to his feet. Every step towards the men feels like eight backwards, even as his arms loop beneath his husband’s arms. Sehyoon carefully shifts Seonghwa’s weight onto Hongjoong before he leans against the near wall. 

“He’s okay?” His voice is gentle and childlike. Enough so to rival that of the quietly napping Mars. Sehyoon nods, a hand running through his bright hair. 

“He’s strong as shit though.” The man laughs softly. “Just about knocked Chan off of him while he tried to remove the arrow. Wouldn’t do well to get rid of the best healer around though, would it?” Seonghwa’s warmth weeps in Hongjoong’s grasp. It is feverous, scalding his flesh like an open flame. Evidently, it is nothing to be concerned with if Seonghwa is back in his arms tonight. "They caught the men that did this; two very angry Redcaps. Donghun found that they were human poachers in the days prior to the ban." Hongjoong sucks in a breath. Mingi had been correct.

The Elf cannot help but glance to his brother-in-law’s unmoving form across the room. He is curled up in a plush armchair; having finally cried himself into a silent stupor. For once, he longs to run his hands along the man’s back and soothe him. While he is not the only one to have lost someone, that person was his soulmate. ‘ _ My brother _ ,’ Hongjoong’s mind bites back. ‘ _ He was my brother first. _ ’ The venom swirls through his mind like a fog. As the human adjusts his dazed out position, Hongjoong bats wildly at the thought. He would not do this. Not to a man like Eden. 

Across the way, Mars cracks open an eye. His small mouth pops into an ‘o’ as he scoots over and pats the cushions next to him. As if carried by a desert breeze, Hongjoong complies. Gently, he settles Seonghwa against the cushions. His fingers tenderly trace the curve of his nose as he pushes stray black hairs from his husband’s face. Beside him, Mars fidgets with one of the silver chains Seonghwa had gifted him from his own collection. The opal teardrop that dangles from the end flickers in the light as it swings like a timeless pendulum. 

His voice is soft as he whispers, “Will he be alright?” The boy’s silver eyes are wide and glistening. Captured moonlight and terror bottled up like a ship in the night. He came here to get away from the dangers of the world, yet Hongjoong feels as though he has led him right into the brunt of it. His fingers twine around Mars’, pulling the small hand to his lips for a tender kiss.

He hums softly. “I think he will be just fine.” He knows that he will be. However, Mars does not seem entirely relieved. Instead, he glances to Eden.

“And Uncle Maddox?” It’s that icy chill that drips down his spine. His heart shattering before the child he has taken in. He shakes his head and the Fae frowns. Tears bubble in the corners of his eyes, but he puts on a brave face as he nuzzles into Hongjoong’s neck. His tiny voice murmurs, “We’ll see him again one day, you know.” That is the breaking point for Hongjoong the hot tears begin to fall freely. Beside them, Seonghwa shifts until he is also wrapped up with his family. His long arms pulling them in like a cocoon.  _ One day _ .

✧ ✧ ✧

_ Avalon blooms brighter than ever before. The sky but a mirror of freckles and constellations; love and infinity. In the distance, a silhouette is outlined against the crystalline tones of the world around them. The shape turns towards him until Maddox comes into view. His form stark against the orchard in full blossom.  _

_ “You found your treasure, baby brother.” He is warm molasses and cinnamon on an autumn night. “Thank you.” His deep brown eyes level with Hongjoong’s. They hold so much hope and forgiveness. _

_ “Why are you thanking me?” _

_ Maddox laughs softly. “You are changing the world, dearest. One step at a time.” His smile is subtle as he tucks a stray curl behind his ear. Never did Hongjoong receive an answer for what had happened all those years ago. “You are a wonderful king, Joongie. My only request is that you don’t lose your ability to dream.”  _

_ Hongjoong can feel the shift in the atmosphere. The crackling of Maddox’s remaining magic; his lingering spirit. His heart drums in his chest as he searches for what he knows to be his final words. In the back of his mind, he remembers the sound of the dirt covering Maddox’s grave. The burning arrow shot to sea. The third stone under the large family tree. Hongjoong scrambles for anything. _

_ “I love you, Joongie.” Maddox says, a grin fading along with his form. “Keep an eye on Eden for me, yeah?” _

_ “I love you.” Hongjoong whispers. Maddox nods as his body dissipates like seafoam on the tide. “Until we meet again.” _

✧ ✧ ✧

How does one count the years that no longer pass? Mortality is a finicky thing. The flow of time was not dependent on the weight of the world. It shoved and shoved until someone broke. For the Fae, one hundred years was nothing. For Mars, he had barely reached his twenties. But for Eden, who refused to tether himself to the Tír na nÓg, one hundred years was a death sentence. After eighty years of traveling between realms, he appeared in the doorway of the private study with a small box. Inside were fifteen vials, each labeled with a different individual from the royals and guards. A set of printed photo cards of Maddox and Eden along with miscellaneous humans that Hongjoong had never seen were piled in the corner. On top was a letter. 

_ “My treasure. - M” _

Hongjoong spent the next week viewing the memories. One showed Eden and Maddox eating pizza for the first time. As Maddox took a bite of a slice, the top layer of cheese pulled off in one go. It left his face covered in hot tomato sauce and a scandalized look. Hongjoong could not stop the tears as they began to flow. Even as Wooyoung flew into the room to tell him about Byeol’s latest heartbreak followed quickly by a furious San. Or as Yeosang curled up at the end of the couch with a book from Hongjoong’s desk. As Yunho and Mingi tumbled in with a bizarre card game of undercover agents. Or as Seonghwa pulled him into his lap as Mars drew in the new leatherbound sketchbook Chan bought him. Not even Jongho’s glorious vocals as he split yet another apple for Bom and Dal made the tears stop. However, with each memory, Hongjoong found love; sincere and deep.

And in the morning, when he went to visit his family’s graves, he found Eden. Slumped against Maddox’s stone, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks softly. His body was long since cold. The sting returned, but the tears did not move. Instead, he pulled a brave face and pushed Eden’s hair out of his eyes. 

_ “Thank you for everything, old friend. May we meet again soon.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! Thank you guys for coming along with me on this journey. This is the longest, plot-driven fic I have written and it was my first step into the Atiny writing world. I'm already working on a new series, as well as, a few one-shots for the other couples in this AU. This has been such a great experience. 
> 
> Find me on Twitter, Insta, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji  
> (I always follow back and love new mutuals!)
> 
> Cheers!  
> I'll see you all in a few days for the epilogue.


	11. Epilogue: Killing Me

> _ “I wanna show you how I've grown in this place. _
> 
> _ In this place, I'm not alone and I know I'll be okay, _
> 
> _ But it's always harder when the winter comes to stay; _
> 
> _ When I can't help but remember all the words I'd never say.” _
> 
> **_Killing Me_ ** _ \- Luka Sital-Singh _
> 
> * * *

He was not a doting father. Not as Mars walked ahead of them, his long fingers intertwined with Dal’s, and laughed like silver bells in the wind. Not as Seonghwa smiled in the skin of Hongjoong’s neck and laughed warmly at the way his husband pouted every time their son publicly kissed his soon to be fiance. Not even as San pecked him on the cheek, lovingly calling him a “co-parent in-law”. Beside the fox, Wooyoung wore a similar expression to the Elf’s.

“I expected to lose Byeol to Bom. I mean come on, that girl is just like her parents. Angelic, yet absolutely savage when she wants to be…” The dark-haired Asrai runs his fingers through the articulate style. “But Mars picking Dal? Out of everyone?” He rolls his eyes dramatically as San cuffs the back of his head. 

“Nothing is wrong with Dal!” The other king complains. “You’re just upset because you’re going to be an empty nester.” Wooyoung sighs softly and Seonghwa laughs as they continue down the orchard path. In his arms, a picnic basket swings. 

Hongjoong is quiet for a few breaths, taking in the glorious view with every step towards Eternity Bridge. The flowers have come back to full bloom, wisteria dancing for all to see. Once again, they have pulled themselves from the icy hold of winter’s teeth. Seonghwa holds him close, his warmth radiating. His attention falls onto San. “You said that Yeosang and the others are already there?” 

San’s dimples make an appearance. “Mhm.” The look in his mischievous eyes flutters the space in Hongjoong’s chest. Whatever is coming cannot be good, however, it was to be expected from the Fae. “They probably wanted to get out of the room while you two,” he glances between the Kings of Grenumar and Avalon, “got hot and steamy in public again.” Hongjoong squawks. 

“As if you have room to speak! Yesterday, I caught you and Wooyoung-” 

“Dad!” Mars screeches in front of them. His hands cover his ears with compelling flourish. “Stop, we’re right here.” The Salamander had grown tall enough to rival both Mingi and Yunho. HIs hair was still kept long and braided, but over the years, he added various strung gemstones to them. On his finger, a promise ring glitters.

Seonghwa snickers. “Honey, don’t act as though you and Dal were not using the private study for things not of academic nature.” Beside him, Hongjoong cackles at Dal’s affronted expression. The Selkie is lit up like an embarrassed Christmas tree. 

“Dad! Oh my god.” Mars grabs his boyfriend’s hand before charging down the path far ahead of them. When he knows he has put enough distance between them and their fathers, he turns around to stick his tongue out. The group guffaws as the two boys dart away. 

San wipes a tear from his eye as he calms his laughter. “They’re adults now. We should probably treat them as such.”

“Which means doing exactly what we just did, but ten fold.” Wooyoung says. San nods in agreement. A toothy grin spreads across his face quickly. 

“Exactly.”

Approaching the clearing, magic and exuberant joy buzzes through the air like an electric current. Before Hongjoong can take a step forward, a paper butterfly soars past his cheek. He yelps and jumps backward, crashing into Seonghwa, as high-pitched laughter fills the air. From a low hanging branch, a small voice calls out. 

“Sorry, Hongjoong!” Byeol’s smile reminds him so much of both of her father’s combined; despite not being a blood relative to them. “Nice of you all to finally join us.” Her long hair has been recently dyed a pastel blue, contrasting greatly with her own fiance’s pink bob. The fiance in question sheepishly nods. In her hands, Bom holds at least a dozen more parchment creatures. From a distance, Hongjoong can only make out a few more butterflies, as well as, an intricate dragonfly. Byeol’s fingers work fast as lavender mist coats another figure and lifts it far out of her fiance’s grasp. The dragonfly teeters in the air for a moment before its wings test themselves. Certain of its newfound sentience, the insect flips through the air for a number of twirls before landing in Yeosang’s soft, blond hair. 

The Aos Si sighs as his fingers pull the small creature from the strands. With a gentle, assistive toss, the dragonfly flutters away. Yeosang looks to where the newcomers stand and offers a shy smile. “Bom has found a new love in papercrafts.” Carefully, he sets down the blueberry tea he was nursing before lifting himself from the grass to bow. Hongjoong returns the gesture as Seonghwa hands off the picnic basket to Jongho. “Was your walk nice?” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively as the group gasps incandescently. 

“Did you expect us to do something lewd with our kids right there?” 

Yeosang laughs deeply as Yunho shoulders up beside them. In his hands, he already cradles a half to one of the sandwiches Seonghwa painstakingly prepared. “Well, they did get here before all of you. You had time.” Hongjoong makes a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat and bats at the taller Fae. 

“Don’t just scarf down the food Seonghwa made! He worked on that for hours.”

“It took me all of thirty minutes, sweetheart.” Seonghwa chuckles behind him, a warm arm wraps around his waist. He wastes no time pulling the Elven king to his chest. “We have more in the castle.” 

Hongjoong grumbles quietly, his words nearly incomprehensible. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll just eat all of them faster.” The Cu Sith smirks before gesturing to Mingi, who holds the crust of a full sandwich in his palm as he starts on another.

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to watch out for.” It takes a moment for Hongjoong to register the sight. When he does, however, his voice carries through the clearing loudly enough that the Cat Sith hears him.

“Song Mingi! Don’t waste the crust!” Mingi glances back at him with his cat-like stare before inhaling another sandwich entirely. “Mingi! Don’t just eat faster!” Hongjoong is not a doting father to his own son. Only to the other members of his family. 

As the group falls into calm chatter, Hongjoong cannot keep his gaze from drifting to the four tombstones that rest against the large, center tree. Seonghwa follows his line of sight before leaning over to press a tender kiss to his temple. Then his cheek. And finally his nose. “Just because you cannot see them, does not mean they are not here, my love.” Hongjoong nods as Seonghwa nuzzles against his hair. “There is beauty to be found in sadness, but more so in the joy that follows memories.”

“We have plenty of those to go around.” Hongjoong smiles softly. “I just never expected to see so many tombs here so quickly.” The hourglass had continued to move; even when they were not watching.

“Does anyone ever come to expect these things?” Seonghwa says. “I feel that they come to us with little warning, but never more than we can handle.”

Hongjoong hums quietly. His eyes fighting the tug of drowsiness that came with a full stomach. “It would have been.” He mumbles into Seonghwa’s neck. “Too much, I mean. Without you by my side, I can guarantee that Avalon would have met a difficult end.” He feels the way his husband’s arms lift him from the ground. His head lulls to the side as he rests it on the Phouka’s sturdy shoulder. Seonghwa’s chest rumbles as his deep voice filters through the air. 

Hongjoong can barely catch what he says through his sleepy haze. “I’ll carry him...tired...up late…” It’s only when he wakes up in their plush bed that he realizes what had happened. A blush covers his face as he tucks his chin into the comforter. Beside him, Seonghwa lays on his side, facing him. His aqua eyes nearly silver in the moonlight.

“Did I fall asleep at our anniversary dinner?” Hongjoong’s voice comes out tiny. Seonghwa laughs. A liquid smile paints itself across his features like a glorious, throne room tapestry. 

His husband’s hand runs along the high point of his cheek bone. “You did.” Hongjoong groans in embarrassment and tucks himself further into the blankets. Seonghwa pulls him tightly to his chest. “Happy 20th anniversary, my love.” He presses a kiss against the top of Hongjoong’s head.

Hongjoong sighs into the touch. “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years since the revel. Happy anniversary, dearest.” Seonghwa’s grin is contagious. “You always keep a promise.” He feels the man nod against him. Everything about who they were, who they became, showed itself in redamancy. To be loved without limits not only between each other, but the thirteen members of their little group. Their family. As Hongjoong begins to doze off in the arms of his lover and the moon, Seonghwa’s voice permeates the air once more. A soft tone of honey and lavender; of lemon and char.

_ “I always keep a promise.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves!  
> I cannot believe this is over. I thought of this fic one night after a rough college experience and never expected anyone to read it. Writing this has been such a journey and I have enjoyed every moment. I can honestly say that Atiny and Choice both have made my year so much better.   
> As mentioned before, due to interest, this AU will be part of a series! Just something small with a few one-shots for each of the main couples, but it will give everyone a bit more time in this universe. A second announcement is that I will be back next week with another multi-chapter AU! This one will be WooSan and a little more on the angsty end of the spectrum. I hope to see you guys again for that! 
> 
> As always, find me on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr: @KyojinOuji
> 
> Stay safe and healthy. Until next time. 
> 
> Cheers!  
> \- Baz


End file.
